


Blokes In Cardigans

by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona)



Category: One Direction (Band), X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Boot Camp, Cardigans, Hand Jobs, M/M, Multi, Sandwiches, Sweet Casual Hookups, The X Factor Era, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimmyarrowshigh/pseuds/aimmyarrowshigh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucy_and_ramona/pseuds/spibsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What d'you think, Aidey?" asks Louis, sort of rocking his hips against Harry. "Up for a ménage à trois?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blokes In Cardigans

**Author's Note:**

> **Author** : & / **Fandom** : One Direction  
>  **Story Title** : "(Blokes in) Cardigans"  
>  **Summary** : _"What d'you think, Aidey?" asks Louis, sort of rocking his hips against Harry. "Up for a ménage à trois?"_  
>  **Character/Relationships** : Harry/Louis, Harry/Aiden Grimshaw, Harry/Louis/Aiden Grimshaw, mentions of Louis/Aiden Grimshaw and Aiden Grimshaw/Matt Cardle  
>  **Rating** : Hard R  
>  **Warnings** : Threesome, fingering, blowjobs.  
>  **Story Wordcount** : 27,250  
>  **Disclaimer** : I don't own anything. No claim of knowledge or veracity is made towards anyone in the story and no aspersions or claims of character are to be inferred. I have no connection nor permissions from One Direction, X-Factor, Simon Cowell, SyCo Inc., Sony, ITV, or Columbia Records. No libel intended.
> 
> Thank you so much to for the awesome ficmix [here](http://gutterqueen.livejournal.com/225042.html)!

Harry has no idea what he's doing here.

Oh, he knows what he's doing here in the grand scheme of things, knows that he auditioned and he was put through and now he's at bootcamp, but that all seems like it must've happened to somebody else. It can't actually be _happening_. He can't actually be competing on the _X Factor_.

He knows it must be happening but it's still so hard to believe, when he only just made the cutoff date to be old enough, and then Louis hadn't liked his audition, but he's here. He made it through the first bit and now he's here, trying to sing well enough to get through to the next round, and it's... Well, it's terrifying.

And like. Everyone else here -- they're _good_. Not everyone-everyone, there are definitely a lot of people through to beef up the numbers (which makes Harry more nervous, because he might be one of them) but there are enough _really, really good_ people that he feels almost foolish, sitting on the floor of the corridor with his sandwich.

It's a good sandwich, that's not why he feels foolish. Mostly in regards to the sandwich he just feels hungry. He chews slowly to try to savor it, because everything here is so fast-moving that he has no idea when the next time he's going to be able to eat is.

He thinks there are three distinct types of people who have made it to bootcamp: the seat-fillers, like the chunky redheaded twins in the corner who think they're Jedward; the voices, like that older woman he passed on the stairwell, belting out Tom Jones, or Liam Payne, who Harry remembers seeing on the show ages ago; and the stars. The people who have "the x-factor."

He remembers a few of them -- a tiny girl who rapped at her audition, and an older guy who always wears a cap. 

The problem is that Harry doesn't think he fits into any of thiose categories. He's not really a voice, no matter what his mum says, and he doesn't think he's got the X Factor as much as he's got a cute face and a lot of hair, which people seem to like. But the only option left is seat-filler and he doesn't want to be that.

So right now, he's choosing not to be any of them. He's hanging low. He's a guy with a sandwich.

A delicious sandwich, at that. And that's all he really needs to be, at least until the sandwich is gone. But it's a pretty big sandwich, so he doesn't have to worry about that for quite some time.

Maybe it'll last three days. He can just be the mysterious sandwich boy the camera panned over a few times, and no one will have to know any the wiser.

Better than being like that one girl, who he can tell the judges only put through because it made good TV. He'd rather be inconspicuous than be laughed at.

They probably won't even show his audition, since he only got two yeses. They tend to show the all-yes and the all-no people, and not many of the in-betweens.

He's aware, when it happens, that there's somebody sat next to him, but he hopes they'll go away when they see that he's much more interested in his delicious sandwich. Maybe they _want_ some of his sandwich. They might be planning on sandwich-napping it.

"Er, if you don't mind me asking," says the boy, "How'd you find food? I keep ending up in a janitorial cupboard when I try."

Oh, okay. Not a sandwich-napper, then. Harry looks up reluctantly and sort of. Boggles.

He recognizes the boy, his name is Aiden and apparently everything thinks he might win. Harry doesn't know about that, but he does know that Aiden is, well, he's fit. Harry has eyes and Aiden is fit, even if he's wearing an extraordinary amount of knitwear.

He's chewing on the nail of his pinkie and looking a little shifty.

"I'm not sure," Harry croaks. "I sort of went in a spiral." He pauses. "D'you want half of mine?"

It's only polite, after all, and Harry is nothing if not polite.

"Yeah, if you're offering." Aiden looks pleasantly surprised, and it sits well on his face. Harry's not sure there's anything that wouldn't sit well on Aiden's face.

Harry tears the sandwich in half (messy, embarrassing) and hands the unbitten half to Aiden. "I'm Harry. I'm sixteen, and I'm from Cheshire."

"Okay, sixteen-year-old Harry from Cheshire." Aiden sounds gently mocking and Harry wants to -- he doesn't have any idea what he wants to do. Something with kissing and ferocity. "I'm eighteen-year-old Aiden from Blackpool."

Harry nods. "Met anyone else yet?"

"A few people, mostly twats," Aiden says cheerfully, his hair flopping rakishly to one side as he tugs a slice of turkey out of the sandwich and rolls it up to eat. "You don't look like a twat, so I've got high hopes."

Harry knows that he goes a little pink around the ears, and tries to hide it by taking a bite of his sandwich.

"D'jou know you eat like a frog?" Aiden asks curiously, rolling up the slice of tomato.

"You know you eat like a -- weirdo?" Harry shoots back. It's weak at best and he takes another bite of sandwich. Unless the X Factor is the ability to make a dick out of yourself, he doesn't think he's got it.

"Yeah, but a human weirdo," Aiden says. "What's it, like, d'you smell with your tongue like a lizard? What are you doing?"

"You're making me regret giving you half my sandwich," Harry says. "Especially as I may never find another."

"Well, I've got it now." Aiden waggles a piece of lettuce at him. "You'll have to pry it out of my cold dead hands."

"I think that'd be a disaster for me in court," Harry says. "As there are cameras everywhere and there'd be loads of evidence in your murder."

"Guess you're out of luck, then." Aiden's next bite of a rolled-up piece of meat is smug. "Shouldn't give parts of your sandwiches to strangers."

"I do feel like I learnt that in primary," Harry muses.

"They shove that in with your alphabet and your times tables." Aiden just has bread now, a bread sandwich, which isn't any sort of sandwich at all, in Harry's eyes.

He doesn't roll up the bread, though. He eats it like toast, only it isn't toast at all and there's mayonnaise on it.

"How – how are you doing that?" Harry asks in disbelief. It looks disgusting. "It's just bread with mayonnaise on it. It's like, like an abomination."

"It tastes like sandwich," Aiden protests. "You're eating bread with mayonnaise on."

"But it's got other stuff on as well!" Harry gestures with the remnants of his sandwich like Aiden can't see perfectly well what's on it. "That's like eating, like, all salad toppings without any lettuce. It's gross."

"That's the best type of salad," Aiden says. "Lettuce has no nutritional value anyway. It just fills you up so you don't have room for anything good."

"It's a vegetable, vegetables are good." Harry frowns. "It's got like, vitamins or something. Green and leafy."

"Nope," Aiden says. "Not lettuce. Eating lettuce does no good at all."

"Why are you talking about lettuce?" Harry asks. "You're eating mayonnaise on bread. That's the opposite of lettuce."

"But it's tasty." Aiden pops the last bit of his _non-sandwich_ into his mouth and swallows. "See? Delicious. Yummy in my tummy."

Harry wrinkles his nose. "Think I'd rather be a frog."

Aiden sticks out his tongue and nonchalantly wipes the crumbs from his fingers on his cardigan. It's a very nice cardigan. Harry thinks he might ask later where he bought it. It seems an pertinent question when they've just shared sandwiches.

"Where are you rooming?" is what comes out of his mouth instead.

Luckily, Aiden doesn't seem to think he's a lunatic frog-man. "I'm on the sixth floor, how about you?"

"Yeah, I'm on the fourth," Harry says. "I think they're going by ages, maybe. I haven't met my roommate."

"Mine's mental," says Aiden. "I thought he was quiet at first but once you get to know him he's a laugh."

"That's good, I guess," Harry says. "I'd rather have someone good-mental than bad-mental."

"Yeah, he's great." Aiden bobs his head. "D'you want to come back to my room? If you haven't got anything else to do, I mean."

Harry bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. "Yeah, sure."

"I haven't got any sandwiches," jokes Aiden, rolling to his feet and shoving his hands into the pockets of his cardigan. He's tall, and he stands sort of curled in on himself, and it's, it's just, it's endearing. Harry doesn't want it to be endearing, but it is.

"That's alright," Harry assures him. "I'll bring my tongue anyway."

Aiden grins at him, and he looks pleased. "I'm sure we can find you something to do with it," he tosses out.

Harry follows Aiden, who is all tall, awkward, loping grace, down the corridor, and can't hide his smile this time, even biting his cheek.

There's not much conversation, but that's alright. Harry doesn't really want a distraction from looking at Aiden, anyway. He's got really pretty facial features, is the thing, and he has broad shoulders and good hair and Harry wants to kiss him a lot.

That might not be -- he thinks that's Aiden's plan, but it might not be, and Harry's misread this before, because he tends to assume everyone wants to kiss him, and that's actually not _always_ true. It's true enough of the time that he doesn't feel conceited or anything, but all the same, it's possible he might be humiliated. Or maimed, although Aiden doesn't seem the violent type.

Harry wonders if it's actually physically possible for someone in a cardigan to commit murder. He doesn't think so. It's probably hard to get blood out of wool or something.

"Hey," he pipes curiously, "D'you think sheep can murder?"

Aiden seems to take this question very seriously. Harry might be in love. "They've got hooves, haven't they?" Aiden asks. "They could probably get a good bludgeon in."

"That's what I'm thinking!" Harry is fairly delighted. "I'd say I'd badger one when I get home and see if it murders me, but I feel like there's no good outcome to that plan."

"No, just a sheep, innit? If one comes at you, though, give it a knock over the head to sort it out." Aiden nods solemnly.

"But then I haven't proven it can murder," Harry points out. "I've proven I can murder a sheep, which I don't know I want on my resume."

"Well don't _murder_ it. Just knock it out for a while. Unless you want to sacrifice yourself for the cause," Aiden reasons. "That'd be shit to have on your gravestone, though, 'murdered by grumpy farm animal.’"

"'In the name of science,'" Harry says. "'And justice.'"

"I don't know if that'll all fit on a gravestone," muses Aiden. "You'd probably just have your name and the dates and 'killed by sheep'."

"Right," Harry says glumly.

"But the world will know," Aiden says. He might be trying to be comforting, but the laughter in his voice kind of negates it. "Scientists and the like."

"I guess so," Harry says. "I can be in News of the World, 'Frog Boy Killed by Murderous Sheep.'"

"That's exactly what the headline would be, too!" Aiden laughs, and pushes the button for the elevator. Harry is almost giddy with anticipation, bouncing on his toes a little.

The elevator _ding_ s and a load of people spill out, all hanging on each other and all fashionable.

None of them are wearing cardigans. None of them particularly look like they have the X Factor, either, though. Maybe cardigans are the X Factor. Maybe you just have to have good hair, in which case Harry's in with a chance.

Nobody follows Harry and Aiden onto their elevator, which either means they're about to miss something mandatory and be kicked off, or everyone is heading downstairs to spiral until they find sandwiches.

He thinks it's the second, because he doesn't recall anything mandatory being on the schedule for the next hour or two. It's lunchtime. Most people are probably getting lunch.

As soon as the doors shut, Harry leans against the railing at the back of the elevator and taps his toes together in his shoes, right over left.

"Alright?" Aiden asks him. When Harry looks up at his face, he seems a little cautious, like he thinks Harry might -- he doesn't know. Lunge for the button for his own floor.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry says. "Y'alright?"

"I'm just dandy." Aiden gives him another one of those grins. They remind Harry of a shark, sort of, sharp except for Aiden doesn't look mean and generally sharks do.

Aiden has a very intense sort of face, actually, and it'd be disquieting if he weren't so attractive.

But he is attractive; he has this jawline that's all gorgeous and his shoulders and his eyes and his hair and Harry is overwhelmed by how fit Aiden is. He really hopes he hasn't misjudged this whole situation.

If he _has_ , he's going to have to sneak off to the loo for a covert wank at some point, and that has the potential to be mortifying.

He doesn't think he has. There are loads of potential reasons for Aiden to invite him to his room, but really only a few that involve his tongue. And Aiden had made that comment.

Well, Harry himself had, but Aiden hadn't disagreed.

"Here, it's just down the end," Aiden says when the door slides open. Nobody else gets on, and there's nobody in the hallway, so Harry supposes they must all be off on sandwich adventures.

The roommate isn't in the room, either, but he's certainly made himself at home. There's a magazine A4 of Cheryl Cole taped over the bed, and a photograph of a dark-haired woman and four little blonde girls tucked over the mirror, next to a little banner scribbed with "GOOD LUCK, BOO! xxxxx" in silver glitter-glue.

"Guess he's out," Aiden notes, closing the door behind him. He takes his cardigan off to drape it over a chair and he's got nice arms to go with his nice shoulders. It's not fair at all.

Harry turns in a circle and tries to decide where to sit. Obviously, the bed is preferable, but it's also presumptuous, and while Harry _is_ presuming a lot, he doesn't necessarily want to look it.

There's a table, though, and it's got chairs, so maybe he should sit there. Aiden's throwing himself onto one of the beds, though, and Harry assumes it's his.

Harry just turns in another circle. If Aiden were a girl, he'd know what to do a bit better, and it's not like he's never -- with boys, but Holmes Chapel is just a smaller town and he knows which boys are giving him the eyes before he even goes in. Having to actually try to read Aiden, with his sharky face, is throwing a wrench in Harry's swerve.

"Come sit," Aiden offers, and that's better, Harry can work better with actual -- when Aiden's telling him where to sit. It's better than turning in circles. He was about to comment on the color scheme which would've been stupid as all the rooms are the same.

Harry trods over to Aiden's bed. He toes his shoes off before clambering up, because a _little_ presumption does seem in order.

"You're in my category, aren't you?" asks Aiden, scooting his feet out of the way to give Harry room. "Unless you're in a band. You're not in a band, are you?"

"No," Harry says. "Well, yeah, I am, but the rest aren't here 'cause they don't sing. They're a bit peeved with me for coming."

"Oh, well that's rubbish. They should want the best for you, shouldn't they?" Aiden wrinkles his nose.

"You'd think, wouldn't you?" Harry asks easily. He stretches out a little on the bed and tries to look enticing.

It maybe works. Aiden leans down onto his elbow, anyway, and he's looking straight at Harry. "You're better off without them," he continues.

"I like to think so," Harry agrees. "If I listened to them, I wouldn't be here right now."

"And that's a very good thing, you being here right now." Aiden sets his hand on Harry's side, which is, it's a come-on if he's ever seen one.

Harry smiles a little come-hither smile, or so he hopes, and tilts his head to look at Aiden from beneath his eyelashes.

Aiden laughs, which could be good or bad, but he kisses Harry after, so it's probably good.

No, it's, it's definitely good, the kiss is.

It's so good Harry doesn't know why he's still thinking. He closes his eyes and tilts up into it, letting Aiden's hand slide up to curl into his hair. It's a lovely kiss. More than lovely, even.

Harry isn't really sure that this is what anyone's supposed to be doing at bootcamp, but at least he can get one memorable story out of being here, even if he can't tell it to anyone but himself.

To be fair, from everyone else's chatterings, this might be the whole point of bootcamp. It's not singing, it's snogging as many people as you can before the week's out.

He doesn't think numbers are that important. Quality over quantity and this is a quality kiss. Aiden's not holding back, leaning over Harry a little so that he can get a good angle on it, and his lips are soft, which Harry likes.

He isn't bitey, either, which Harry appreciates.

All in all, a solid kiss. _Full marks_ , Harry faintly decides. He cranes up into it and Aiden makes an appreciative noise, deepening the kiss and settling a hand in the center of Harry's chest. It's just there, not moving up or down, and Harry likes the weight of it.

Aiden eases back just far enough that when he speaks, his lips brush against Harry's. "Have you been with a guy before or will you like freak out if I say I'm hard?"

A little laugh escapes Harry's mouth that probably doesn't help his case in the slightest. "I've been with guys before, yeah," he replies, pushing his lips against Aiden's again. "I'm not freaked out."

And then Aiden's weight is on him, more than just his hand on Harry's chest. "Good."

It's good, really good. Harry's used to being sort of -- not always on top, but he's used to being sort of in control of everything that goes on when he's making out, and this is new. New, and different, but he likes it. It sends a thrill up his spine. "Yeah, good," he agrees, shifting so Aiden's thigh can slot between his.

"Cheers," Aiden says a little breathlessly, his mouth quirking into a little smirk that Harry surges up to kiss away or to taste.

He's not particularly bitey but he has to sink his teeth into Aiden's lower lip because it's there and it's _tempting_ , so he does, quickly, and then licks over it to soothe the sting.

Aiden responds pretty beautifully, his thigh coming up to rub up against Harry and one hand finding its way under Harry's polo shirt to rub at a nipple.

"D'you mind going a bit fast?" he asks. "Only I think we probably have, like, telly things to do soon-ish."

"Probably, yeah." Privately, Harry thinks that he's sixteen, and he's got decent stamina, but there's no way he was going to last ages anyway, not with how fit Aiden is and how good he is at pushing Harry's buttons.

The button on Harry's jeans flicks open.

Speaking of his buttons.

Harry lifts his hips when Aiden shoves his hand inside his trousers, and he thinks he should do something in return, so he presses his hand against the flat of Aiden's stomach and then slides it down to rub lightly. Aiden does feel hard, and it makes a shiver roll down Harry's spine. No matter how many guys he fools around with, there's always a part of him amazing that he can affect someone like that.

(It's the same with girls, really, Harry isn't picky -- slick panties or hard cocks, Harry's pretty much a fan of it all. Even if it doesn't go anywhere more than that, he just likes knowing.)

Aiden has nice hands, though most hands tend to be nice when they're wrapped around Harry's cock. He inhales sharply and undoes the fastenings of Aiden's trousers as fast as he can without looking, and he fumbles a bit but manages.

Aiden huffs against Harry's lips once Harry gets a hand around him, and pulls back to rest his forehead against Harry's, too distracted to keep kissing him.

It's a bit difficult for both of them to get a steady rhythm without knocking elbows or something but they get something close, and Harry kisses the corner of his mouth just to have his mouth doing something.

"Pretty good at this," Aiden comments, half a laugh on the back of his words.

"Not bad yourself," replies Harry, palming up over the slick head of Aiden's cock. He feels good in Harry's hand, fits into his palm well. He's missed this, hasn't gotten to touch a dick not his own in far too long.

He wets his lip and ventures, "Later, I could show you how good I am at everything else?"

Aiden gives him another grin and sucks on Harry's bottom lip for a moment. "Sounds fantastic," he agrees. "I'm curious now."

Kissing seems like the best response to that, so it's what Harry does, a little sloppier and deeper than they've kissed yet, but he's confident.

It earns him another one of those pleased noises from Aiden, who quickens the pace of his hand and presses harder against Harry.

It makes Harry's wrist bend at a funny angle, and he can already tell it'll probably twinge a bit later, but that's alright -- he's willing to sacrifice his carpal tunnels or whatever for a good handjob.

He doesn't need his wrist to sing or be cute or whatever it is they need to do for the show later. And anyway, Aiden's so very good at this that he could probably chew Harry's hands off and he's still be able to come alright.

Because that's the thing about Aiden right now, see, is that Harry can tell Aiden has a lot of experience putting his hands on other people's dicks.

And that's alright, better than alright, because it's always nicer to exchange handjobs with someone who knows what they're doing. Harry tightens his grip and Aiden sighs, so he keeps it that way, moving his hand a little faster.

There's a ruckus outside the door just then, people running up the hall and whooping (or singing, maybe, on another planet) and Harry lets out a wild giggle. "Hope your roommate doesn't come in."

Aiden laughs, too, and tucks his face against Harry's neck. "Yeah, be a bit of a shock for him," he mumbles, kissing Harry's throat and sucking lightly, not enough to leave a mark.

moans at that and his legs splay open a little wider, the waist of his jeans -- which never really made it off -- cutting into the outside of his thighs.

"Ooh, interesting," murmurs Aiden, nosing along the line of Harry's collar. He presses his mouth against Harry's skin again.

Harry nods, a little inanely, and twists his hand.

After a moment, Aiden kisses Harry again, his tongue tracing Harry's cupid's bow and then stroking against Harry's tongue gently. It's a careful, slow kiss, probably because he's still trying to focus on the rhythm of his hand, but it's nice and Harry can feel his orgasm building, a hot pressure in the pit of his stomach.

knows his hips are rocking up into Aiden's hand and it probably seems eager, but... he is, dammit.

His lips are parted to give Aiden access and he wishes he could pay more attention to the kiss because it's good but he keeps gasping, and he's so close that it's hard to focus on anything else but coming.

He wants Aiden to like it as much as he is, though, because he actually rather does want to pick this up again after they're done being maybe-television stars, so he tries to keep track of his hand, too, and runs his thumb over the head of Aiden's cock, right where it's wet.

He can feel the shudder that goes through Aiden, all along his side where Aiden is pressed and he thinks that's good, hopes it is. Aiden kisses him harder so he imagines it must be, and Aiden's hips are moving in little twitches against his hand.

(Harry always loves this bit, when everything goes a bit messy and it's all about chasing it instead of trying to seem, like, smooth or beautiful or even sexy anymore. This is the good bit.)

He can tell when Aiden's about to come and he only holds off until he's done because he looks so _good_. Aiden closes his eyes and bites his lip hard and there's a light sheen of sweat at the base of his neck. He looks amazing.

Harry hopes Aiden makes it onto the show if only so he can see his face every week when he's back in Holmes Chapel, honestly. It's a really good face.

Even as Aiden is still shivering a little, his hand is moving, which is awfully polite of him. His rhythm's gone unsteady but Harry's been with people who just sort of flopped over when they came and left him to sort himself out.

And that's alright, too. Harry and his right hand have a very intimate relationship. But it's better when it's -- well, when it's Aiden, honestly, is all Harry can really think at this moment.

Aiden's muttering in his ear, something encouraging, but Harry doesn't need encouragement to want to get off. He rolls his hips up against Aiden's hand, once, twice, and then he's coming, his head dropping back to the pillow as a smile spreads across his face.

Aiden snorts and nuzzles one of Harry's dimples. "Never seen such a smiley comer. I like it."

Harry laughs, and flails his other hand out to pat Aiden's shoulder. "Happiest a person can be, innit?" he asks, shaking his hair a little. It feels so hot on top of his head, but that's to be expected.

"Ta," Aiden agrees, and flops over to lie beside Harry on the narrow twin bed.

Harry thinks that's probably a dismissal of sorts, and he does need to check the time and fix his clothes, but his legs still feel like they might not work. He stays where he is, taking deep breaths and then sitting up when he feels less woozy.

"Any clue where there's tissues?"

"Uh, mine were in the drawer, just there." Harry gestures with his clean hand to the bedside table, wrinkling his nose at the stickiness on his other fingers. He flattens his tongue out over his palm and licks, partially because it's efficient and partially because, well, he likes having fun with people.

Aiden must notice, because his eyes are a little dark and hooded when he sits up, lanky body framing over Harry's side, and reaches into the bedside table.

It's easy enough to continue, then, his index finger followed by the rest. He hollows his cheeks a little because he's not going to do it by halves now he's started, and then he accepts the tissue Aiden offers with a wink and a quick, "Thanks."

There's a second of quiet, rustling, amiable quiet as they both clean themselves up and tuck back into their pants. The zip of their trousers is loud, but, Harry thinks, maybe hopefully, it doesn't feel _final_.

"I'll see you around, yeah?" Aiden says as he stands, adjusting his hair. Harry can't really tell the difference between it before and now, but Aiden seems satisfied after a moment. "Later, maybe? After the filming stuff?"

"Yeah," Harry agrees. "Sure, yeah. We're in the same category, should be easy enough to find."

"And you know where I live now." Aiden grabs his cardigan and slips it on. It does suit him, even if cardigans will now forever remind Harry of murderous sheep. "Maybe you'll even meet my roommate. He'll have to come back eventually."

"Maybe," Harry says, although that doesn't sound terribly sexy, meeting the roommate.

The hand Aiden sets to his lower back as they head for the door is a bit sexy, though. Harry's starting to think it's just Aiden in general who's sexy, though. He's almost positive of that.

He and Aiden walk side-by-side back up the hall and have a pleasant enough chat in the elevator on their way back downstairs. They share their BBMs before parting, and Harry wanders off to find another sandwich, if he can, because coming really takes it out of him.

He can't find another sandwich but there's a vending machine that takes his dollar and gives him a stale packet of crisps, so that's something.

He wanders outside to the courtyard with them and stands on the fringe outside of a circle that's formed around that Irish boy with the guitar. They're all singing Bieber, which Harry is ashamed enough to be able to tell, much less hum along to, but he gratefully does not know the words.

The Irish boy knows all of the words and the chords and he can sing them at the speed of light, so Harry feels a bit better about his own life.

He stands at the outskirts, not quite near and not very far from Liam Payne, who also looks dubious about joining in. Harry thinks about offering him crisps, but by the time he decides that yes, he shall, all that's left in the packet is flavoring powder.

It's the best part, really, but he doesn't think Liam Payne is the type to agree with that, so he just sticks his fingers in the powder and licks it off. It's like a far less sexy version of what he was doing earlier. Tastier, though.

He wipes his hands clean on his trousers and wanders back inside. He finds a cadre of girls with glorious sandwiches and trots up to them to ask where they found them, and a pretty blonde named Katie takes his proffered elbow and leads him off.

She has really nice eyes and she seems a bit flaky but she's nice enough to help him pick out a sandwich. Very nice in general, actually.

He tries to memorize the location of the craft services stand, but it's hopeless unless he can find his way back out to the courtyard again to take the same path.

He'll just have to hope there are always people around with sandwiches to ask. That seems as good a plan as any.

He'll probably be going home by morning, anyway. He can make sandwiches in his mum's kitchen. Forever, probably.

There are people with cameras all around and on occasion one of them will ask him a question or two but none of his answers are interesting so he doesn't think they'll make it on television.

He's walking a circle around the building when he runs into Katie again, so he laughs and lets her drag him back into the fray of girls to chat. They all want to play with his hair.

He doesn't mind that. He likes when people play with his hair, and not just in a sex way; it feels nice. It's soothing and when he's as nervous as he's been since he got here, he'll take all the soothing he can get.

He notices that one of the cameras is hovering, just about then, and he'll probably end up on Xtra with some kind of quip about how he's _one of the girls_. Just as well; he doesn't mind it.

Maybe it'll be a quip about how he's _popular with the ladies_. He can handle that, too. He sort of is, after all, but just because he's popular with most people. He's not oblivious and he's good at talking to people, or else he wouldn't be on this show at all.

a bit sleepy by the time they deem, over an intercom, that check-in is completed and all 200-odd contestants have arrived to the building. They're about to start singing rehearsals and have to split by category; Katie hugs him and blushes before she goes off with Jade and the other girls.

When Harry gets to the area where the rest of the boys group is congregating, he doesn't see Aiden, but he does see the Irish boy from before and Liam Payne. He doesn't really recognize any of the others -- knows they don't recognize him, either. It's so weird, this competition. No matter who you get to know, in the end, you'll only know them long enough for them to probably get sent home.

At least he made the best of meeting Aiden, then. Never complain, never explain.

They receive sheets of paper with the lyrics to 'Man in the Mirror' on them. _Who doesn't know the words to 'Man in the Mirror'?_ wonders Harry, but there must at least be a few, because he can already see some people frowning at the paper mouthing the lyrics.

When they all start rehearsing, Harry settles himself pretty comfortably in the middle of the pack. He definitely is far from the worst, the joke acts, but he's not one of the best, he doesn't think. He isn't Liam Payne, or Marlon McKenzie.

The guy standing next to him is so hideously out of key that Harry nearly says something to him before reminding himself of his manners, and that this is a competition. Someone singing badly means there's one more spot left open, and he wants it.

They're dismissed after a bit so the Overs can shuffle in to get the vocal coaching, and there’s a guy with a cap who Aiden's giving the eyes. A broad bloke in purple suggests that anyone who wants to can come along with him to sing in the stairwell, where there's good acoustics.

Harry wants all the practice he can get, not that it'll help, but if he looks confident they might put him through even if his vocal's not the strongest.

And it's a fun song to sing, and it's fun to sing with so many people instead of just by himself.

The acoustics in the stairwell _are_ magnificent, and as they sing, a few of the other boys trickle in (though some of them hardly count as boys -- Harry thinks you probably stop being a boy once you can grow facial hair or something) to join them.

There's a boy down in the corner who keeps looking at Harry.

He's wearing a cardigan and Harry vaguely recognizes him but not in a Liam Payne way, just in a way he thinks means he must have seen the boy around, maybe also looking for a sandwich or something. He's not sure. He doesn't mind being looked at, or anything, it's just hard not to notice, because the other boy's not being subtle at all.

Maybe it's something about people wearing cardigans. They like looking at Harry and he likes looking at them back.

It's actually the cardigan that looks more familiar than the boy, the more Harry looks back at him.

Odd.

They keep sneaking glances at each other, and something about it just feels fun. Harry can see a smile on the other boy's lips, when he sings and when he looks at Harry while he's singing, so Harry's not sure which part is making him smile.

He sort of hopes it's him.

He's got a sort of effortless cool, is the thing, this kid with the goofy scarf and the cardigan. He looks like he knows how to have fun -- all mischief behind the eyes.

And he's got a sidesweepy fringe thing. Harry likes sidesweepy fringes.

Sometimes, when Ashley straightens his hair back home, she puts it in a sidesweepy fringe and calls him Pete Wentz. He's still not sure whether it's a compliment.

Fringey smiley boy doesn't look like Pete Wentz. He just looks, well. Good. Harry supposes it's part of the _X Factor_ , whatever it encompasses. You should probably look good on camera, at least.

He can't hear whether the smiley guy can sing, but Harry supposes he'll be put through to the next day anyway, just because he's so much fun to watch.

Harry hopes he does. He hopes _he_ does, too, because there's no point if he doesn't. And he'd quite like to get off with Aiden again.

Aiden is standing off somewhere in the background of everyone, right next to the Guy with the Cap.

He looks a bit -- Harry recognizes the way he's standing, is all, and he doesn't really _blame_ him. Cap Guy's got a rakish sort of good-lookingness to him, not really Harry's type but he might be Aiden's.

Aiden doesn't have a type, then, if Harry and Cap Guy both do it for him. Cap Guy's got stubble on his chin.

Harry certainly doesn't have any stubble. Maybe Aiden's just more versatile. It seems to Harry like his type at least for today is Blokes In Cardigans, which, well. Isn't something he anticipated. Not a bad thing, though.

They sing the same song over and over again and Harry drains two bottles of water between verses and by the time everyone starts dispersing, he needs to wee so badly he's doing the Awkward Toilet Dance and might be waddling a bit. Not attractive. He can see why Aiden's disappeared with Cap Guy.

There are bathrooms all over the place but never when you _need_ one, and Harry's nearly wet himself by the time he spots a door that's clearly marked as a loo and not a janitorial cupboard. He does a weird galloping skip to get inside and is grateful there's nobody nearby he wants to get off with.

So of course, while he's in the middle of taking a wee so nice he's got the pee-shivers all down his spine, someone _taps on his shoulder_ , like that's a thing people _do_.

And more of course, when he takes a look over his shoulder (even scandalized as he is, he's got manners) it's fringey cardigan boy, all cheekbones close up and grinning at him.

"'Lo," the boy says. He pauses. "You're getting piss everywhere."

"That happens when some madman distracts you from peeing," Harry grumbles, redirecting himself. It's just the wall he splashed on but he still feels embarrassment creep hot and prickly down the back of his neck.

"Fair enough," says Fringey Evil Cardigan Boy. He steps up to the urinal next to Harry's and unzips. "Anyway, I was trying to ask around for your name, but didn't get it."

That's not surprising, as Harry's only really talked to that group of girls from before and Aiden. "It's Harry," he supplies, finishing his wee and shaking off a little before he tucks in and zips up. "Yours?"

Evil Cardigan Smile-boy Thing waits until he's finished weeing and zipped back up, too, before he answers. He has to fix his scarf from where he'd tucked it over his shoulder to prevent peeing on it because it's so long. "Louis. But I think they're calling me Lou _ee_ here, like the French, because Simon said it wrong at my audition so I'm just... going with it."

"Probably a good move," Harry agrees. Typically agreeing with Simon means you go farther. "Which d'you want me to call you, -iss or -ee?"

A shrug. "Lou's fine, split the difference."

"Alright then, Lou," Harry says, letting the name roll around in his mouth. He likes it, short and simple. "What did you want to know my name for, then?"

"You're good," Louis says, simple like it's a fact. "You're gonna be famous, and I want to be able to say I knew you when."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't think it's _true_ , first of all. He's not got the best vocal in the competition, nowhere near. If Louis wants famous pee splashed on him, he should probably be talking to Liam Payne or Aiden or Cap Guy.

Probably Liam Payne. Liam Payne probably doesn't pee, though. Seems too uptight for it. Penile retentive, or whatever it is.

And aside from that, it's just a bizarre thing to tell someone, that you want to know them before they're famous. In a competition like this, especially, when at most there are twelve of them even getting through to live television.

Harry washes his hands and shakes out his hair. "Erm, thanks. I'm not. Going to be famous, I mean. But thanks."

"Yes, you are," replies Louis, very calm, nodding like he's certain of it. "You're going to be massively famous, and I can say I knew Harry -- sorry, what was your last name?"

"I didn't say," Harry says, but then does say. "It's Styles."

Louis laughs a little incredulous laugh. It's very pleasing to the ear. "Your real name is Harry Styles? Seriously? Yeah, you're going to be famous. You're a ready-made popstar."

"I don't think people get famous off their names," Harry says. "Unless they're really funny, like... Dick Van Dyke or someone."

"It's a popstar name." Louis tilts his head thoughtfully. "Or a pornstar name. Which you might be decent at as well, if I'm honest."

Harry blusters a strangled little laugh. "Cheeky!"

"That's me." Louis gives him a quick little grin, his lips quirked to the side and his eyes going crinkly. Harry loves smiles like that. "You can't be unaware of your face, though. The camera's going to love you."

Harry grins at that, full-dimple. "You aren't bad yourself." He pauses again. "I like your cardi."

Louis looks delighted, glancing down at himself as though to recall which cardigan he's wearing. "Thank you! I can't remember if it's mine or my roommate's, but either way, you've got impeccable fashion sense. I salute you."

Harry smiles. "I haven't met my roommate yet. I'm hoping he might be a no-show and I can have my own room tonight."

"Want any company?" Louis offers casually, like that's just a thing people do. It's quite refreshing, actually.

Harry bites his lip, ducks his head, smiles with his eyes up at Louis from beneath his fringe and his lashes, a move he'd already used on another boy just this morning. Apparently, this is being an almost-popstar.

He could go for it.

"Yeah, sure."

“Excellent, didn't think that'd work." Louis bounces on his toes, and seems about to clap Harry's shoulder before he realizes he hasn't washed his hands yet. He holds up a finger and trots over to the sink.

Harry laughs at that, full-on, because it's such a -- a _real_ thing. Very little of this experience, the X Factor experience has seemed real. Except the sex. Aiden and his rolled-up sandwich bits; Louis and his dirty hands.  
"There we go," Louis says, drying his hands off with a paper towel. "I know you're supposed to use the blowing-air-things but honestly I don't think anything's ever been dry after using one of those." He gives Harry another smile and holds out his hand. "Louis Tomlinson," he introduces formally.

Harry shakes his hand, and it's still a bit damp despite the speech. "Harry Styles, sixteen, from Cheshire," he recites. It feels like a costume, a bit, even though it's all true.

Louis gives him a look that's mostly eyebrows. "I'm not Simon Cowell, mate. You haven't got to give me your information."

"Well, I thought it'd be good to know I'm legal," Harry points out. "Unless you're like, are you like thirty?"

"You've got to be legal to be here since they changed the limit. Do I look thirty?" Louis asks, appearing vaguely concerned. "I'm only eighteen. This is terrifying information."

"I don't think you look thirty," Harry says. He tilts his head. "I wouldn't mind if you were, I guess. So long as you looked like -- " he gestures.

Louis looks satisfied enough with that response. "I'm glad I'm not thirty. I think I'll stay eighteen forever. Hate getting older; it's the worst part of birthdays."

Harry laughs a bit at that. He likes getting older at birthdays. It made him able to try out for X Factor, finally. And be legal.

Not legal to drink, yet, but he'll get there eventually. It's not like he can't procure alcohol if he desperately wants some.

"When's the last bit they're filming, d'you know?" Louis asks, pulling a phone out of his pocket, ostensibly to check the time. "I hope we're almost done. Doing my head in having to wait around doing all this other shit. I'd rather do the audition and get it over with."

"Tomorrow, isn't it?" Harry asks. "Or the auditions are? They're doing Groups and Overs today and then us and the Girls tomorrow?"

Louis heaves a sigh. "So much waiting around. I'm glad there are ways to relieve stress round here." He gives Harry a sideways smile and a wink. "I'd go mad."

Harry bites his bottom lip and grins at that. It's not like he wasn't popular back home; he'd certainly never had trouble getting sex when he wanted it, but... if he were as lucky tomorrow with his singing as he is today with his dick, then he'll be a popstar before the end of the year.

The look Louis gives him then is intense, to say the least. "You've got a really nice mouth," he says bluntly. "First thing I noticed about you. For the singing, obviously."

"Obviously," Harry agrees, and if he licks his lip a little, well, it's just dry, that's all.

It has nothing to do with the way Louis' eyes go that bit darker and he licks his own lips in a gesture that seems entirely subconscious.

It takes a few wrong turns to reach the lift, and on the way, Harry learns that Louis is eighteen, not thirty, and he's from Doncaster and exceptionally proud of it. He was in a band with his best friend, but two people don't make much of a band, especially when neither plays guitar, and he has four little sisters, none of whom can carry a tune in a bucket.

He tries to convince Louis to sing him a little something, because he coudn't distinguish his voice from the others while they were in the big group, but all he gets is a coy little smile and a line about fraternizing with the enemy. Like what they're about to do doesn't count as fraternizing.

Harry pauses, though, after pushing the button for his floor. "You aren't planning to sabotage my voice, are you?"

"That's a good idea," replies Louis, appearing vaguely impressed. "Wish I'd thought of it."

"Oh. Well, pretend I never said it, then."

"Bit worried about myself now, though," Louis comments, leaning back against the bar at the far side of the elevator. "How do I know this wasn't an elaborate ruse for you to sabotage _my_ voice, Harry Styles?"

"Because I'm nice." Harry offers him a winning smile.

Louis still looks skeptical, but Harry's pretty sure he's not serious. "I bet you're a wanker underneath. You probably kill kittens."

"No!" Harry is genuinely a bit horrified. "Kittens are my favorite thing. Besides maybe sausage rolls and like, sleeping. And orgasms. Kittens are my third-favorite thing! I like them more than sausage rolls, I think."

Louis' eyebrows are raised now. "Alright, not kittens, then. I'm sure you've got a dark side, though. Nobody with a face like that can be all sweetness and light."

"I don't know," Harry says. "You'll have to check all my sides and find out."

"A difficult task, but one I feel I must complete." Louis holds a hand to his heart. "For Queen and country."

They step off the lift and, on a whim, Harry grabs Louis' hand before they head down the hall to his room. He wouldn't have, with Aiden earlier, but Louis is different from Aiden. 

Probably doesn't roll up his sandwich toppings, or eat just bread with mayonnaise on.

Louis doesn't seem to mind at all, just follows along in step with Harry and looks vaguely interested, in what, Harry doesn't know. He hopes it's him.

"Don't know if my roommate's turned up," Harry says. "He wasn't when I got here this morning."

"Oh, I arrived last night," Louis says. "My roommate, too, but he's a good lad."

"I'm hoping mine's just not here," Harry admits, unlocking his door and pushing it open. There's still nobody else in there, so he thinks it's probably safe to assume he'll have his own room the rest of the time he's there.

"This is home sweet home," he announces grandly to Louis, pushing open for the door. "At least, for like, twelve more hours."

Louis snorts. "Until you get put through to judges' houses, you mean," he corrects, closing the door behind him. "You're going to be famous, I keep telling you."

Harry just snorts and bounds down onto the bed, shoes off and ankles crossed, but Louis takes a few minutes to look all around the room, inspecting the (very few) personal effects Harry's strewn about the place.

"I like it," he decides, though there's really not that much to like. He returns to Harry's side, reclining on the bed and then squirming until he's able to lean onto his elbow and look curiously at Harry.

"So," he says.

"So," agrees Harry. He smiles, dimples and all, and Louis smiles back. He pushes a knuckle into Harry's dimple and huffs a laugh under his breath.

"You're impossibly cute," he informs Harry. "Not sure I haven't made you up."

"I promise, I'm a real boy," Harry insists, holding out his arms.

"Hmm," Louis hums doubtfully, before swinging a leg over Harry's hips and pulling him up to inspect him at close range.

"Hullo," Harry says, in a little surprise. He's fairly pleased, though, with this development.

"Hiya," says Louis, his nose nearly brushing Harry's. "You certainly _feel_ real." His fingers dance up Harry's ribs, slotting into the valleys of them.

"There's more where it came from," Harry offers, stretching out a bit so his legs better slot with Louis'.

"Is there?" Louis very deliberately fastens his lips around Harry's bottom lip and sucks once. "You don't mind if I find that out for myself, do you?"

Harry grins. "Have at."

He puts one arm around Louis' neck and brings him down for a better kiss, a kiss he'd actually label a kiss if asked about it and not just a, a lip-suck or a bite or an awkward bumping of noses.

He's had several good kisses -- a few in the past twelve hours alone -- and this one's certainly up there. They're pressed together so closely that they can hardly separate their lips at all, even if Harry'd wanted to, and he doesn't.

Maybe he shouldn't compare kissers, or kissees, or whatever, but he can't help thinking that Louis has a smaller mouth than Aiden, but he knows how to use it.

Louis also seems more prone to smiling while kissing, but it weirdly doesn't get in the way. Harry can just feel the curve of his mouth whenever they change the angle, and he thinks Louis must kiss just like he sings, smiling and happy just to be doing it.

Harry sighs when Louis' hands stroke slowly up and down over his sides, like he's still trying to feel out where the strings are that make Harry a marionette.

He doesn't have strings as far as he knows but Louis' hands feel nice, and knowledgeable, and he's looking forward to seeing what else they can do to him.

He's expecting -- basically, he's expecting a repeat of what he had with Aiden, a repeat of what he's had with most guys. Some minimal petting, a good kiss, a nice handy-j. But Louis seems to have other ideas, his mouth skating down to the column of Harry's neck to kiss there and make him shiver.

One of Louis' hands is settled underneath Harry's shirt, his thumb rubbing circles on Harry's stomach. His fingers are splayed to curve around his side and his mouth, lips warm and damp, feels amazing as it presses kisses against his skin.

Harry chances running his fingers through Louis' hair, soft all along the back of his head.

He hears Louis laugh softly as he tugs Harry's shirt over to kiss along his shoulder and collarbone, and he lands one cheeky nibble just past where his neck slopes out into the curve of his shoulder.

Well, if that's how this is going. Harry unknots Louis' scarf and throws it over the side of the bed, and they both laugh until Harry kisses over Louis' Adam's apple and then one of them is moaning softly.

Louis tugs at the bottom of Harry's shirt, giving him an imperious look. "Arms up," he instructs.

Harry blinks a few times, everything feeling warm and soft (well, not everything so soft) and listens, sitting up a bit and stretching up his arms.

Louis pushes his shirt up and then over his head, dropping it next to his own scarf and then sliding his hands down Harry's chest and stomach.

"Fit," he comments, like he's pleased with himself. "I thought you'd be."

"Thanks," Harry laughs, though he can feel himself go a pleased pink. "I'm glad I haven't disappointed."

Louis' fingertips are so light as they feather up and down Harry's chest, down over his belly where he's still got a little pudge and around to his hips, up again along his side until it just barely starts to tickle under his arms.

It tickles enough that a laugh squeaks out of him, and a shiver twists down his spine. He leans up to kiss underneath Louis' chin, and then keeps his mouth there, returning the favor from before.

Louis hums happily, his palm flattening over Harry's chest.

The pad of Louis' thumb rubs over one of Harry's nipples and Harry releases a little sound in the back of his throat. His nipples aren't particularly sensitive, he doesn't think, but Louis has soft hands and it feels nice.

Louis grins. "That's fun." He rubs again, then looks down and his eyebrows crease. "What's that under it? D'you have cancer or something?"

" _No_ ," Harry denies, moistening his bottom lip again. "It's, it's a nipple. I've sort of got four?"

Louis' eyes light up. "Are you serious?"

That's not the reaction he normally gets. Harry likes this one better. "Yeah," he confirms, leaning back on one elbow so he can better show them off. "There's the normal two, and then three -- and four," he says, poking each of them in turn.

"Do they all work?" Louis asks, prodding gently at the smallest smudge of a nipple with his index fingertip.

Harry laughs again and shrugs as well as he can without unbalancing himself. "How do normal nipples work? I dunno, they're nipples. They do... nipple things?"

"Right, but I mean, do all four do -- nipple things?" Louis asks. He stops prodding and instead rubs a little circle over the next-smallest nipple with the pad of his thumb. "Like, can you feel that?"

Harry shivers again. "Oh, uh, yeah. Not as much with the smallest one, but with that one, yeah."

"Really?" Louis' voice is dropped to a syrupy murmur, and that alone could make Harry shiver. "So if I -- " he leans down and kisses over the small one with soft, wet lips -- "That feels good?"

"Oh," sighs Harry, his eyelashes fluttering a little. "Yeah, that feels -- yeah. Good, yeah."

Louis pushes Harry down flat against the mattress. "You're fascinating."

"Thanks, I think?" Harry watches Louis through half-lowered lids. "So are you," he adds, as Louis strips his own shirt over his head.

Louis' very tan, warm, like he's sunkissed. It's very different from Harry's pasty Cheshire skin.

He's wiry but defined, and Harry lets himself just look for a moment. If nothing else comes out of his X Factor experience, at least he got to fool around with two really fit people.

Not exactly the same accomplishment as a record deal, but it's better than another weekend of sweeping up crumbs at the bakery.

Louis scoots down Harry's legs a bit in a way that should probably look more ridiculous than it does. He nuzzles at Harry's nipple again and brushes kisses the rest of the way down his stomach.

Harry feels his breathing pick up, heavy in a way that should be embarrassing, but isn't.

Louis looks at him thoughtfully, and then bites the edge of Harry's belly-button. "I'd really like to blow you, if that's alright?" he asks politely.

"I think that would be fine," Harry says, and giggles a bit.

"Good." Louis flicks open the button of Harry's jeans. "Hoped you'd say that."

He makes quick work of the zip and then pushes Harry's trousers down his thighs, his thumbs hooked into his boxers as well to get everything off in one fell swoop.

He drags them down Harry's legs and Harry kicks the material away, and he's suddenly profoundly aware that he hasn't showered at all since Aiden.

It feels, somehow, much more sordid now. He doesn't think there's a problem with how many people he's hooked up with today, and it's not like he'd been expecting this, but still. He wishes he'd washed.

Louis pauses, still curled like a jungle cat at the edge of the bed near Harry's ankles. "D'you mind if I get my trousers off? They're just a bit -- er, tight."

Harry thinks that Louis should be aware of how stupid a question that is. "Be my guest," he states, his eyes scanning down the front of Louis' trousers to find that they certainly are a bit tight.

"Cheers," Louis says, and laughs as his jeans go over the edge of the bed with a soft _flump_.

He has really nice thighs, does Louis. Thicker than Harry's, and the same golden-tan color as the rest of him.

Harry sort of ones to bite one.

It seems out of place to ask now, but maybe -- if they both get through to the next stage of the competition -- maybe Louis will let him, another time. Now Aiden's gone off with Cap Guy, he seems to be Harry's only prospect.

 _And an amazing prospect at that_ , he mentally congratulates himself when Louis stretches out on the bed so that his head is level with Harry's cock, which is obviously interested in the proceedings.

"Hullo," Louis whistles. "I'm having a lucky day."

Harry can feel himself go red again. "Shut up," he laughs, leaning up onto his elbows so that he can see better.

"Don't think I will," Louis banters. "Need my mouth open for this one. Pretty wide, I'd say."

Harry's not -- it's not like he's _unaware_ he's faring well in the size department. Even if only for his age, he's proud of his cock and it's nice to know that pride isn't unfounded.

He pets Louis' hair fondly.

"Try _not_ to sabotage my voice, if it's all the same," Louis says cheerfully, and then he's slurping down over Harry's prick.

It's hard not to just jerk up into Louis' mouth, so wet and hot and the _suction_ \-- Harry's had blowjobs, he'd even say he's had _fantastic_ blowjobs, but Louis is something else and Harry grabs a fistful of duvet just to have something to hold on to.

At this moment, he's actually glad that he'd gotten off with Aiden just a little while ago, because at least this way he can be spared the indignity of having already come.

Louis' comment about Harry's mouth in the hallway seems ridiculous now he's experiencing Louis' for himself. He's not taken the whole thing in one go but his cheeks are hollowed and his eyelashes dust over high cheekbones. He's got amazing bone structure, which is about the thing Harry's least preoccupied with right now.

All the same, Harry's fingers move down to Louis' face so he can touch over his cheekbones, over the shadows beneath his eyes, press into the hollow of his cheek to feel his cock and the warm movement of Louis' tongue.

Louis' eyes flick up to meet Harry's, very blue and dancing with amusement as he draws his tongue in patterns over the underside of Harry's cock. He could be spelling out the lyrics to Man in the Mirror for all Harry knows; he can't manage to focus on anything but the warm wetness of it all.

Louis slides up and lets his lips pop off with a truly vulgar noise. "How'm I doing? Ought to get used to being judged."

Harry makes a sort of burbling sound, his knuckle drawing across Louis' lower lip and coming away slick. "Good," he croaks after a moment of gathering his wits about him. "Very good. Full marks. Through to the next round and all that."

Louis raises one eyebrow and lets one hand slide along the inside of Harry's thigh. "I hope so."

has to swallow and his legs fall open a little more. He's pretty sure he'll let Louis do whatever he wants to do as long as it involves his mouth.

Louis smirks and licks his lips before sliding down again, bringing one hand up to cover what he hasn't fit yet and the other bracing himself up on the mattress beside Harry's hip.

The break from his mouth hasn't lessened how amazing it feels, and Harry has to crane his head back against the pillow, clenching his eyes shut. It's a shame, because Louis looks spectacular like this, but if he wants to have respectable stamina at all, he can't be watching him.

He can still feel everything, though: the warmth of Louis' mouth, the slight strokes of his hand over what his mouth can't reach, and his hand is in Louis' hair still, stroking over the soft, fine strands. It's so very close to sensory overload, especially considering he's deliberately closed off one of his senses.

He's a bit slower than normal from Aiden but he's not made of stone, and he can feel that it's only a matter of time before he comes. Whether Louis spits or swallows, he doesn't know -- and doesn't care, for the most part, as long as his mouth's on Harry for the duration.

His hips start twitching a little, pushing for more more more of Louis' mouth, but Louis' hand comes up from the mattress to push Harry's hips down, and he's stronger than he looks.

He likes being held in place like this. It's not, like, he doesn't feel like he couldn't push through Louis' grip if he wanted to. It just feels like a suggestion, a warning. And if he chokes Louis, Louis might _stop_. Harry doesn't want that at all.

So Harry tries to keep still. He works his toes, flexes and points and he feels like his calves are burning, but he keeps still.

Louis seems to reward him by sucking down more, the pace of his stroking hand becoming faster, and Harry edges that little bit closer, still trying to hold off, and he squeezes what he's pretty sure is Louis' shoulder. "Close," he chokes out.

He feels Louis smirk against his skin.

His mouth is _sinful_ , and Harry hopes his own groan of release isn't too embarrassing. He tries to keep it quieter than he normally would, keeping in mind that there might be people in their rooms beside his. He can't stop himself from grinning, though. It just happens automatically, like it did with Aiden.

Louis doesn't swallow, which is fine; he keeps sucking Harry all the way through it, easing him through the orgasm with his mouth and a hand, and then there's sort of a mess of spitty come on Harry's belly and pooling on the tops of his thighs and really, that's fine. There are much worse things to get on yourself than your own come.

He does grab the tissues from on the table next to him, wiping himself off a little when he can move his arms again. He's still trembling a little with aftershocks, which is impressive enough that he wants to give Louis something really amazing in return.

As for Louis, he just flops down beside Harry and mouths at his shoulder. "Alright?"

"Better than alright." Harry drops the tissue on the floor and makes a mental note to actually throw it away later. "You're brilliant. That was _brilliant_."

Louis pretends to dust off his fingernails against the side of Harry's thigh. "I do try."

Harry kisses him, quickly, and slides his hand down to palm Louis through his pants. He can taste himself on Louis' lips and it sends a thrill through him.

Louis murmurs a little and turns Harry, hitching him up for a better angle on the kiss.

It's a better angle for Harry to slip his hand inside Louis' pants, too, and he takes advantage of that, gripping Louis lightly to get a feel for the size of him.

Harry grunts against Louis' mouth. "Full marks here, too."

Louis laughs, low and a little breathless. "Thanks, grew it m'self," he replies, his hips twitching toward Harry's hand.

Harry has to laugh at that. Full-on, beefy laughter, with that embarrassing seal-snort that he always makes when something is really funny.

When he suppresses it a bit Louis is looking at him like he's never seen anybody like him before. It makes Harry feel -- well, he's not sure. Lots of things. But he thinks they're good.

"Never realized my willy was so funny," Louis cracks, and it makes Harry snort again. He rolls over to bury his face in the pillows, bare bum in the air, as he tries to suppress his laughter.

"I'm sorry," he gasps, muffled in a pillow. "I'm sorry, it's not, promise. I'm just, no, it's not."

Louis snorts at Harry, and his forehead presses up against Harry's side as he curls up, laughing next to him. "You're right weird, did you know?"

Harry does know, and it should be more embarrassing that he's making it clear to someone who just sucked him off (and really well at that). "Yeah," he huffs, trying to force the laughter back down his throat. "I've, uh. It's been mentioned."

Louis eyes are ridiculously blue as they glitter up at Harry. The rims are just barely red, too, and it's _so_ pretty. "I like it."

"I like _you_." It's massively cliché but it's true, as well. Louis is really ridiculously likeable.

Louis winks and rolls over onto his back again, hips canted just enough that the bulge of his cock beneath his black pants looks huge and prominent.

Well, that's captured Harry's attention sufficiently. He decides that pants are really very stupid and without further fanfare, strips Louis of his, mesmerized by the distinct line where his tan ends.

He traces the tip of one finger over it, the pale stripe, with a little smile on his face.

This time it's Louis who shivers, and Harry can feel it underneath his finger. "Wish I tanned in the nude," Louis says. It'd be casual if he wasn't still moving his hips a little. "Looks a bit ridiculous."

"I like it," Harry argues. "Like framing."

Louis snorts, and grins at him. "Weirdo," he says, but it's tinged with more affection than Harry would've thought possible for someone he's only known for one hour and one blowjob.

Harry grins, then rubs his cheeks, trying to relax his mouth so he won't accidentally bite Louis just by smiling too much.

He's got pretty stretchy cheeks, though. That'll work in his favor.

Louis' eyes are hooded, sleepy, but alert and fond as he reaches down to pick one of Harry's curls out of his eyes, turning it the right direction again. "Your hair's all a rumpus. It's going in about six directions."

"It always does that," Harry points out, blowing another curl out of his face. It just settles back where it was. "I don't think it's possible for it to go all in one direction. Too curly."

Louis wrinkles one side of his nose and musses with Harry's hair some more as Harry straddles over Louis' legs. "We'll just see about that."

"I'm sure we will." Harry wraps his hand around Louis again, stroking him enough to get him as hard as he was before they'd gotten off track in a mess of laughter and banter.

Louis groans appreciatively and lets one forearm cover his eyes.

It's a little disappointing, because he's got really nice eyes and Harry likes looking at them, but it's also less pressure, in a way. He shifts into the right position and licks his lips before he licks out over the head of Louis' cock, gathering a bead of pre-come with his tongue.

He hasn't actually done this as much as he's done handjobs. He likes going down on people, goes down on girls all the time, but Holmes Chapel is really small and apparently blowjobs are just too gay for most of the boys he hooks up with (which is a conundrum unto itself that he still hasn't worked out).

He's been told enough times that he has a good mouth for blowing people, though, so he hopes people haven't just been lying to him. He wraps his lips around the tip and sucks hard, taking great care to keep his teeth out of the way.

Louis' thigh twitches, and Harry doesn't really know whether it's a good twitch or a bad twitch, so he just keeps on as he is.

He's rather grateful, actually, that his hair's down in his eyes, because it means he can look at Louis if he wants to but Louis can really only see his mouth, which is really the whole point of what he's doing.

The arm not covering Louis' eyes comes down and Louis' fingers thread through Harry's hair, just cupping his head carefully.

Harry relaxes a little, and lets his mouth slide down more. It's easier when he's going slowly, and when Louis is touching him. Not quite _guiding_ him, but Harry's confident if he did something Louis didn't like, he'd let him know.

He starts moving his hand slowly where it's wrapped around the base of Louis' cock, twisting lightly where it meets his mouth.

"Yeah," sighs Louis, touching the back of Harry's neck. "Yeah, just like that, that's good."

Harry flushes all over with pride and redoubles his efforts.

Louis keeps giving him little bits of encouragement, whether in words or soft sounds or the way his fingers tighten in Harry's hair.

Really, he's a very good person to give a blowjob to, Harry thinks.

He gives Harry's ear a little tug and murmurs, "Nearly there," in a voice that's tighter than it normally is. Very considerate of him.

Harry hums, lets Louis feel it. He isn't really sure whether the protocol here is to spit because Louis spat or to swallow because -- well, because swallowing. But it's nice to be forewarned all the same.

He's not sure what he's going to do, even, not until Louis grunts and his mouth is full and he just -- swallows. More to get rid of it than out of any sense of politeness.

Once Louis is done cursing and writhing, Harry pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Louis looks disheveled and sweaty and still so tan. He's giving Harry a sort of incredulous look. "Damn," he utters, pushing his hair off his forehead.

It sticks up from the damp salt of his sweat, and Harry giggles, blushing with no small amount of pride.

He makes a very inelegant squawking sound when Louis pulls him down on top of him, smacking another kiss to his lips. "Ta, love," he says, mumbling the words along Harry's hairline.

Harry smiles against the curve of Louis' jaw and kisses the side of his face. "Just returning the favor."

"And well," agrees Louis. "Great stress reliever, you are. Much better than a nap."

Harry tries to smile, but instead he yawns. "Could do with one of those, myself."

"Oh, yeah, won't take up any more of your time." Louis bobs his head and gives Harry a firmer kiss, ending it with a stroke of his tongue along Harry's lower lip. "Thanks again, for the good time," he whispers.

"You can stay if you like," Harry offers, because honestly, being fucked and chucked twice in a day hurts a bit and he'd rather not find Louis with like, Liam Payne later, and have to avoid both Liam Payne _and_ Cap Guy.

Louis looks pleasantly surprised. "Yeah?" he asks, already relaxing underneath Harry. "Most people tend to be a bit quicker to show me the door."

"Nah, you're dead comfy," Harry says, snuggling down against him.

"Well, there's something." Louis hooks an arm around Harry's waist, and tucks his face against his neck. "You're very warm."

"Well, that's good, otherwise I'd be like, dead, basically."

"And that's a fetish I don't have." Louis laughs against Harry's throat.

"Good, now I can sleep easy," Harry yawns.

"Do you need me to move at all?" Louis asks him gently, one of his hands carding through Harry's curls. "Or are you alright?"

"'M'good." Harry wriggles his bum a little and pushes his face into Louis' side.

"Good, because I'm not moving," mumbles Louis, his voice already fainter. "You wore me out, you minx. Sound strategy."

Harry would smirk, but he's already asleep.

He sleeps remarkably soundly considering it's the first time he's slept with someone in his bed in... some time.

And there's no way his mum will walk in. There's a chance Konnie Huq might, he supposes, or Dermot O'Leary, but. At least not his mum.

The light streaming in past the curtains is what wakes him up, though he tries to ignore it, pushing his face against the bare chest next to him in an attempt to shut out the bright sun.

Wait.

Bare chest.

Person -- person, person, person... Louis? Louis who.

LOUIS X-FACTOR. 

Harry sits bolt upright and fumbles around until he can find the time.

He slumps back against the bed and relaxes a little. It's early, too early for any mandatory business to attend but apparently early enough for the sun to be coming up.

There's a grumpy yowl beside him and Louis rolls over to cover his eyes. "Too much sun in London."

"Tell me about it," Harry grumbles, shoving a pillow over his own head.

"Rises in the east," mumbles Louis. "Sets in the west."

"Rises too early," corrects Harry into his pillow. Despite the sun, it's a little cool in his room, so he rolls toward Louis to steal some of his warmth.

Louis murmurs under his breath and slings an arm heavily around Harry's waist. "H'llo."

"Hi," replies Harry, snuggling in. Louis is very warm indeed, and Harry tucks his toes in underneath one of his calves.

"Time'z'it?"

Harry waves a hand and then realizes that Louis won't see it, and even if he did, it means nothing. "Early," he says instead. "Seven."

"We've call at half-eight," Louis groans, then stretches, lean and gorgeous, hands wrapped around the slats of the headboard and toes inching down to the foot of the bed, thighs taught and back long and bum _marvelous_ ; how did Harry not notice his bum last night?

He guesses he was focused on other things but really, he should've noticed his bum before now. It's wonderful, a smooth sloping curve down from his back and then sloping again into the back of his thighs. Harry's a bit transfixed.

He pokes it.

It's early; he can blame the hour.

Louis doesn't look surprised, but he does look drowsily amused. It's a good look on him. "You just poked my bum," he announces.

"I did," Harry agrees. "I had to see if it was real."

"It is." Louis nods like he gets that question all the time. He twists to properly show it to Harry. "Like it? Shit, I need to figure out a way to tan my arse," he says, frowning and looking over his shoulder. "I look striped."

"I like it," Harry says, giving Louis' pale rump a fond pat. "Gives you character."

"Arse-Man?" Louis asks.

"Arse-Man," agrees Harry. "Does it fight crime? Or wear a cape? Or have a nemesis?"

"Would pants count as a cape?" Louis asks, and rolls over to stretch properly. His mouth is sour from morning and old come, but he kisses Harry anyway.

It says a lot about how much Harry already likes him that he allows it. Not that he's got any room to talk. He wrinkles his nose at the taste of his own mouth, longing for his toothbrush all the way in the bathroom.

Louis sits up and scrubs his fingers through his fringe. "I need tea," he announces.

Harry looks at him blankly, patting his hands down himself before he replies, "Fresh out."

Louis smirks, then yawns, then smirks again. "I guess I'll have to leave your bed then. Soz."

Weirdly enough, Harry _is_ a bit disappointed about that, and he finds himself speaking before he can really think about it. "D'you want to try to find breakfast with me?" he offers.

Louis is quiet when he considers it, looking carefully at Harry's face. "Where'd you say you live?"

Harry's a bit taken aback by the question, but dutifully responds. "Holmes Chapel, in Cheshire."

Louis nods. "Right." He's quiet for a moment, then brightens. "Sure, we can find breakfast. As long as it includes tea, and hopefully a sausage roll." His grin turns dirty. "I do like a good sausage in my mouth first thing in the morning."

"I could've guessed that," Harry replies, tilting his head with a grin. He's not sure why he wants to spend more time with Louis. Maybe it's just because he's still smarting over Aiden's quick replacement of him, which also shouldn't matter.

Also, Louis is funny. Harry thinks he's going to need funny to deal with getting sent home today, all of his dreams in a broken, dull heap around his feet and only the alternating mockery and shunning by his friends back home to return to.

He sighs. Definitely going to need funny. 

His clothes from yesterday are still haphazardly scattered on the floor so he rolls to his feet to find something that won't smell like hotel floor and sex.

He _really_ needs to shower. He probably smells like sex twice over.

"Um," he starts, running a hand through his hair. Oh, gross, that's all sweaty and vaguely gunky feeling as well. "Would you mind if I took a quick shower? That'd give you time to go back to your room and change, too," he reasons.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Louis says. He sniffs his armpit. "Good idea."

"D'you want to meet back here or the lobby?" Harry asks. He's starting to feel grosser by the second.

"Lobby?" Louis asks. "Might be closer to the food."

"I hope so." Harry frowns, rubbing his stomach. Now he's thinking about it, he's starving. Maybe the sandwich place has breakfast sandwiches. If he can find it again.

He gives Louis a smile. "Should we just meet at the bottom of the stairs?"

Louis shrugs a shoulder, gathering his clothes to pull back on. "Yeah, sure. I'll be there."

Harry doesn't let his stomach swoop in hopefulness that it's true. If Louis doesn't show up, right, he doesn't show up. Technically, they _are_ competitors.

And anyway, it's not like he'll ever see him again after this. Chances are either one or both of them's getting cut later.

Chances? Complete reality is that one or both are getting cut later.

His shower is quick but thorough. It's hard to be anything else with the way he keeps his hair, and he has to scrub through it twice before it feels sufficiently clean. Now it's going to be either fluffy or tightly curled for the rest of the day, neither of which he's happy with, but at least it doesn't smell like sweat and spunk.

Beanie. Beanie will solve all of his problems.

He grabs a black one and shoves it on over his hair once he's dressed. There. Perfect.

He double sniff-tests that he remembered to put on deodorant, looks down his trousers to make sure he's got on his lucky chartreuse pants, and slips his room key into his pocket.

He's got money for breakfast, and his phone, and he is ready to go.

His roommate's obviously not coming for whatever reason, and Harry's very grateful. Not only does he get a room to himself but nobody walked in on anything that would've been awkward to explain later.

This way, later, he has a private room to come back to and cry while he packs up the last of his things.

God, he's depressing. He shouldn't be this depressing considering he hooked up with two guys yesterday and he's going to breakfast with one of them.

He likes all of the above. He likes hooking up. He likes guys. He likes breakfast. And if Louis doesn't show, he can try to find Katie, because he also likes ladies, and still likes breakfast.

It's a good system, really, and he checks the time as he descends into the lobby. It's been twenty minutes. He'll wait another ten, and if Louis doesn't come, then -- then Harry will be massively disappointed, but he'll get over it.

Louis comes barreling down the stairs with a minute to go before Harry would have given up on him.

"Sorry!" he crows. "Couldn't get my hair -- beanie! Why didn't I think of a beanie?"

Harry grins, ecstatic and trying to be less so. "I dunno, you're not as brilliant as I am?"

"Urgh, unfortunately, that seems true," Louis agrees. "So. Tea. Need. Now. Find me some."

"Where there are sandwiches, there's got to be tea, right?" Harry mumbles, trying to retrace his steps and figure out where the sandwiches were. He's found them twice. He should really know at this point how to get to them.

They end up turned around twice, but do, actually, eventually find -- well, they don't find sandwiches, but they do find Jade, who Harry remembers tagging along with Katie yesterday, and Jade finds the sandwiches.

Either way, the sandwiches are found, and they _do_ have breakfast type sandwiches, and they have tea, which Harry's relieved about because Louis' started getting a bit tetchy and Harry doesn't want tea to be the reason he doesn't get laid again.

They eat at a long fold-out table in a makeshift cafeteria of sorts that's been set up since the day before.

"I've missed tea," Louis sighs, holding his hands cupped around his Styrofoam container. "It's been far too long and I need it to function."

"How long had it been? You aren't going to die if you drink it 'cause of an allergy or something, are you?"

"Mm. Since yesterday." Louis closes his eyes and inhales the steam coming from his cup. "Eons. I could feel myself growing fainter by the hour."

Harry rolls his eyes. "You're very odd. It's just tea."

"How very dare you," protests Louis, puffing up a little. "Nectar of the gods, this is. It's _Yorkshire Tea_. It practically runs through my veins instead of blood."

"Is that why you're so tan even though you're from _Doncaster_?" Harry asks around a mouthful of gummy sausage roll.

Louis looks thoughtful at that. "Could be, couldn't it? Is your love of sausage rolls the reason you've got such a massive dick?" He asks this calmly, raising his eyebrows and taking another sip of his tea.

Harry sort of chokes at that and goes over a bit red, coughing fervently until everything is back in the pipe it should be.

He can't help but notice Louis looks very satisfied with himself. "Is this your cunning plan?" he asks, rubbing his throat. "Choke your competition to death with sausage rolls?"

"Coulda done that last night if it were," Louis murmurs, so quietly that if Harry couldn't read his lips, he probably wouldn't be able to hear the words, either.

He could have. He didn't, but he could have, and it's not like Harry would've been able to tell anyone about it, so he appreciates it all the more.

"Appreciated," he mutters just as quietly before shoving another bite of sausage roll into his mouth. It's delicious and warm and it makes the burbling in Harry's stomach calm a bit.

Louis gives him a cheeky wink and takes an enormous bite of his own sausage roll. It leaves crumbs on his lips.

He looks very soft in the morning, Louis does. His hair's sticking up a little and his fringe is all rumpled and his shirt's hanging down enough that Harry can see his collarbones, and he just looks warm and a bit sleepy. Harry's grown quite fond of looking at him.

He's grown a bit worryingly fond of him in general. It's always been a problem with Harry. It's why he glares a little at Cap Guy when he wanders past with a cup of coffee.

"Coffee," Louis snorts derisively, as though reading Harry's thoughts. "The nerve."

"The absolute cheek," agrees Harry, tearing his gaze away. He's totally better looking than Cap Guy. Probably sucks dick better, too; Cap Guy's mouth looks tiny.

Harry sighs and fiddles around with the crust of his sausage roll while Louis finishes eating first his own, then the remainder of Harry's. After a bit, Konnie Hux comes over and asks Harry if he'd be willing to film a joke segment for Xtra because so many of the girls from yesterday have crushes on him, and he grins and gamely agrees.

"Guess that means I'll see you later," notes Louis, gathering the wrappers from their sandwiches and crumpling them into a ball. He raises his eyebrows a little like he's asking a question.

"Yeah, sure," Harry says. "I'll be the crying heap on his way to Holmes Chapel."

Louis rolls his eyes and then gives Harry a stern look. "I told you. Famous." He reaches over to pat Harry's hand. "You're going to be a star."

feels warm and soft, and he smiles at Louis as Louis stands up.

"I'll see you, Harry Styles, sixteen-years-old from Holmes Chapel," Louis says solemnly, standing up and tipping Harry an imaginary hat. "Probably on my television when I'm watching from home."

Somehow, that thought makes Harry's insides twist.

With a last wave, Louis is traipsing off back toward the elevator, and then Harry's trailing along behind Konnie to film his segment.

Everything's going by quickly, and Harry wishes it wouldn't because he wants to savor the time before he's sent home and he can't do that if it's all whizzing by. Filming the segment with the girls is fun, and at the end a large, hairy man carries Harry bridal-style for a minute and it's all very strange.

Even his performance goes by quickly, though that might be because they only sing for twenty seconds or so. It's still terrifying because the only sound is yourself and Louis and Simon are just watching you, murmuring back and forth. He thinks he does alright. Maybe enough for them to put him through to the next round. Probably not.

He does better than most of the other sixteen-year-olds, though, and that's something. Not better than Liam Payne, of course. Probably on par with the blond guitar kid. But definitely better than a lot of the sixteen-year-olds.

Better than Tom Richards, which is. He's happy about that.

He doesn't actually _sing_ as well? But Harry thinks that at least when he sings, the songs make sense. Like, for his voice, and that. He might be grasping at straws, but he does think that maybe Simon agrees.

He hopes that Simon agrees, because Louis Walsh already told him no once, so he can't count on help there.

He drinks about a gallon of water after he's done singing, while the seventeen-year-olds are in.

It's not going to do him any good now, but at least it gives him something to _do_ other than sit around waiting to see if he's going through or going home. He really doesn't want to go home.

Of course, it makes him need to wee like a horse, so he's in the loo again when Louis finds him next.

"We've got to stop meeting like this," he says to Harry, though he doesn't actually sound disappointed. "I'll start to think you're trying to tell me something."

"I'm not into golden showers, if that's what you're afraid of," Harry says offhandedly, focusing on _not actually_ splashing pee on Louis this time.

"Top lad, though I didn't know that's what they were called. Sounds much more magical when you put it that way." Louis does his own business in the urinal next to Harry's.

They could be called Harry Potter unicorns and they still wouldn't sound magical," Harry says dryly, zipping his trousers.

"I just think it sounds like something leprechauns would be into." Louis hums in thought. "Or something that'd be in My Little Pony."

"God, I hope not," Harry says. "That's a disturbing thought that I never needed."

"You're telling me; my little sisters watch that." Louis wrinkles his nose. "I'll never be able to think of it the same way again."

Harry grins. "How'd your audition go?"

Louis heaves a loud sigh as he approaches the sink to wash his hands. "If only I had a popstar name to fall back on like you have. I was so nervous I nearly pissed m'self, of course."

"Yeah, but everyone was," Harry says, waving a casual hand. "Did you sing alright?"

"As well as I ever do." Louis shrugs a shoulder. "I mean, definitely not good enough to get to the next round, but maybe I'll slip through the cracks."

"I bet you were great." Harry really means it, too. Louis' got presence, which is more than most of the people here can say. He's fun to watch, even just standing there.

"Nah, _you_ were great." Louis shoves his hands under the hand-dryer. "Managed to catch yours. You really are brilliant. I keep telling you."

Harry shrugs one shoulder, but takes the compliment. He needs it, and anyway, he did do well enough.

"Damn things," mutters Louis, finally giving up and wiping his hands on his trousers. "So, I wanted to ask you, will you sign something for me?" he asks as he looks back at Harry.

That's enough to startle a wild laugh out of Harry. "What? Is that a euphemism?"

Louis laughs, shaking his head. "No, like an autograph. So when you're selling out arenas I can say I knew you when, like."

"Har har," Harry says. "Like that'll happen. Let's just -- get a photo instead."

"How about both?" offers Louis. "I've got a -- napkin or something, hold on." He digs into his pocket and emerges triumphantly with a wrinkled napkin.

Harry shakes his head, but signs the napkin. He fishes his mobile out of his pocket and holds it out so there's room in the frame for both he and Louis.

"I'll be able to sell this for a million pounds someday, just you watch," Louis insists, his arm coming around Harry's waist as he grins.

Harry shakes his head.

On a whim, he kisses Louis' cheek in the photo.

He can feel Louis' smile widen underneath his lips and the hand at his waist squeezes lightly. "Ta, love," Louis murmurs, ducking his head to look at Harry sideways.

Harry grins. "Should we go back to the auditorium? Find out our fate?"

"Suppose it's too late to just run away." Louis sighs dramatically. "We might as well."

Harry keeps their elbows linked as they head back to the stage. Aiden is at the end of the row, already waiting; Cap Guy must be with the Overs, doing -- whatever it is the Overs do.

Really, Aiden could do far better than Cap Guy. Did do, even. Harry'd like to think he's not conceited, but he's better than Cap Guy. Even if he doesn't have any facial hair yet.

Louis knocks his elbow against Harry's. "Alright?"

Harry takes a deep breath. "Yeah. Just nervous." He grins at Louis, nudging his hip against his. "Good luck?"

"You'll have good luck," Louis confirms. He gives Harry a tight smile, and Harry slips his arm around Louis' waist to rub his side consolingly.

"You're better than you think you are," he says. He knows that, even without hearing Louis sing a word.

Louis shrugs like clock pieces. "We'll see."

There are people with clip boards all around and the large group is slowly sectioned off into two smaller groups. Louis is called before Harry is and he gives Harry a quick hug before jogging off.

Harry bites his thumbnail and waits. When Aiden goes over to the same group Louis' been called for, Harry knows -- that's the group that's staying. It must be. Liam Payne joining them, walking stiffly, a minute later confirms it. 

So that's the group he wants to be in, he thinks, closing his eyes and hoping. After another minute or two, he finally hears -- "Harry Styles?"

The woman calling his name is peering around and he trots over to her so that she can point him -- toward Louis and Aiden and Liam.

Harry feels his heart swoop. He might be through. It seems like he's through.

He's got to be through. There's no way they're letting go of Aiden, or of Liam Payne with his whole story and face and voice, and Louis with his presence even when he's not performing. He's through. Got to be.

Harry's caught up in a group of people far away from anyone he knows, a knot of bigger, older Boys who are probably almost Overs, when they're told: yes, it's them. They can stay here tonight. They'll be back tomorrow.

Everyone goes mad jumping and screaming and shouting; Harry hugs about six people he doesn't know including the Irish boy with the guitar (though he's not got his guitar now).

They're eventually chivvied off the stage by the production team, eager to bring the Girls in to divide their ranks.

Harry hugs a few more people, mostly those who hug him first, before Louis pops up in front of him with a beaming smile on his face. "Told you, didn't I?" he asks Harry, punching his shoulder.

Harry throws his arms around Louis' waist and just -- hugs him. Lets the relief race through his body that he's here, at least for one more night, he's good enough, at least to be here, he's at least really earned his place and he isn't a joke act. He isn't a joke.

He's glad Louis doesn't pull away or anything. He hugs Harry back, actually, arms tight around his shoulders as Harry breathes. 

"You're brilliant," Louis murmurs in his ear. "Absolutely brilliant."

Harry nods. "Oh my god, I'm still here."

"Right you are." Louis' lips brush Harry's neck, in something that's not quite a kiss. "And so am I. We're both here."

Harry grins at that, his mouth pressed up against Louis' collarbone.

"D'you know what I think?" asks Louis, his voice quiet in Harry's ear. "I think we should celebrate."

Harry nods, biting his lip, eyes shining. "Alright, yeah. Yes, please."

One night can be two nights. That's allowed, that's fine. And he does -- like Louis, a lot.

"Yeah?" Louis sounds hopeful. "You're up for it?"

"Totally!" Harry nods. "Your place or mine?" He smirks.

"I've seen yours, I'm over it." Louis noses along Harry's cheek. "I think my roommate's probably gone off to celebrate with his other mate so I've got mine to myself."

Harry nods eagerly. "Alright, yeah. Lead the way."

Louis grabs his hand and eagerly maneuvers the other people standing around. He's good at dodging, or at least better at it than Harry, who gets hit in the ribs by at least three elbows.

He _ooph!_ s every time, which makes Louis finally turn and crack, "You really don't play footie, do you? Fragile little thing."

"Hardly fragile," Harry protests. "I could have broken ribs, you know. Everyone here's got sharp elbows."

"Oh, piss off!" Louis laughs. "Elbows can't be that sharp, they're just elbows."

"They are so sharp!" Harry digs his own elbow into Louis' ribs. Lightly, though, as he does quite like him.

"Ooh, you're right," Louis teases. "I think I've been stabbed." 

The lift door dings and Louis pulls Harry inside; before anyone else in the throng can follow, Louis jams the 'door close' button and, as soon as it does, throws Harry up against the back wall to snog him soundly.

Harry doesn't mind at all. He hooks an arm around Louis' neck to make it easier to get leverage and kisses back for all he's worth. He's through, he's through, they're both through.

Louis' hands slide into Harry's back pockets and he nudges his thigh up between Harry's legs, rutting against him.

Oh, that's nice. That's perfect, that is. Harry rocks against Louis, delving his hands into his hair and keeping him exactly where he wants him.

They accidentally pass Louis' floor once because they're so distracted, but just dissolve in laughter and head back down to where they're meant to be.

It's the same floor as Aiden's on, but if they really do go by ages then that makes sense, considering Louis is eighteen, too.

Louis laces his fingers through Harry's and pulls him down the hall, stopping every few feet to throw him up against the wall again and kiss him. Harry can deal with that. It's a hardship, but someone has to suffer in this world.

It does mean that by the time they reach Louis' door, he's panting for it. Louis doesn't sound entirely unaffected, either, when he says, "This is me," in a low, gruff voice.

Harry nods, a little breathless. "Yeah, yeah, good. Good."

"I need to get my key," mutters Louis, before he gives Harry another firm kiss.

Harry nods, kissing Louis' neck. "Alright, yeah."

"That means I need my hands," Louis laughs. "Geroff a minute."

Harry grumbles, but he's pretty sure wonderful joyous things are going to happen once they get inside the room, so he removes his hands from Louis' person and politely steps back a bit.

The door opens and Harry pretty much tackles Louis as soon as it's unlocked, bringing him through the door in a stumbling heap.

Everything's topsy-turvy for a moment as Louis laughs, then coughs, going still underneath Harry. "Oh, sorry, didn't think you were in here," he says apologetically, which Harry can only assume means his roommate did _not_ go out with his other friend.

"That's alright," says --

Oh, shit. That's a familiar voice.

"Oh," comes said familiar voice again. Harry sort of wishes he could evaporate. "Oh, hello again."

Harry rolls off Louis and lies on the floor of the hotel room, staring upside-down at Aiden. "Hi, Aiden. Y'alright?"

"Not as alright as you, seems." Aiden doesn't seem cross, which Harry was a bit worried about. He's just got raised eyebrows and he's looking between Harry and Louis. "You met my roommate, then?"

"Wait, how did you two meet?" Louis asks. He adjusts the front of his trousers with a hand tucked into his jeans.

"Erm -- funny story, that," says Harry, shaking his hair out. "We met yesterday. Before I met you, I met him."

"And by met you mean blew?" Louis asks, looking from Aiden to Harry with one eyebrow quirked. He doesn't look angry, though. Just... quirky.

" _No_ ," replies Harry with his nose in the air. "I do not."

"Nah, just handies, wasn't it?" Aiden says, grinning at Harry. "You got the upgrade, it'd seem."

Harry blushes purple.

"Well, that's alright," Louis says, rolling over to prop himself up on his elbow and look at Harry. He pokes a knuckle into Harry's dimple. Then he looks up at Aiden and waggles both eyebrows. "Same with us, wasn't it?"

"What?" Harry blurts, every part of him suddenly very much interested in this conversation. "You what?"

"The first night, when we arrived," Louis said. "We both got here a day early. And -- he's fit as fuck, look at him."

"Well, I know that part, don't I?" asks Harry, his mind buzzing to try and catch up with the conversation. "Not like I could -- blame you, or anything."

"Good," Louis says. He looks up at Aiden. "When'd you meet Harry?"

"Yesterday morning, while you were off gallivanting god knows where." Aiden sits back in his chair, apparently relaxing. "Let me have some of his sandwich."

"Yeah, he's very generous," Louis says, and laughs a little. He pokes Harry's cheek again.

"I _am_ generous," Harry grumbles. "Still got him off even after he ate his sandwich like a nutter."

"Oh, did he do that bit where he takes it apart and eats it like it wasn't all meant to be one food?" Louis asks. "He did that the first night with pizza. Who takes their cheese off a pizza and eats it alone?"

"Yeah!" Harry nods enthusiastically, happy there's someone to agree with him. "And just bread with mayonnaise on it. It was _disgusting_."

"Ey!" Aiden protests. "You both still had the bad taste to get off with me after that, so it can't be that bad."

"Well, you're really fit. Have you not noticed?" Harry asks politely, smiling at him. "Because you're really, really fit."

Aiden grins. "Always nice to hear, even if I've been replaced."

"Fresh!" Harry says, mouth dropping open in indignation. "After you abandoned me for Cap Guy!"

Oh, that wasn't intentional. But the nerve of Aiden to imply he was replaced without sufficient reason was just too much.

Aiden goes a little pink. "Touché, I s'pose. He's too cool for me, though."

"Well, you do wear an awful lot of cardigans," Louis notes, propping his chin on his hands and giving Aiden a critical look. "Apart from that, you're wicked cool."

Aiden scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, speaking of, did you take one of mine yesterday?"

"I did, yeah, sorry," says Louis sheepishly. "It was cold. I'll get it washed for you, if you want. Or you can just sleep with it at night."

"Might do," Aiden says. "Unless that one spunked on it." He gestures at Harry with his shoulder. "Then I'll definitely sleep with it."

"I mean, I'm sure we could arrange such a thing." Louis gives Harry a considering look. "He's up for loads. He's got a billion nipples, people with extra nipples are up for anything."

"Does he?" Aiden asks. "How does a person have extra nipples?"

"I used to be a twin," Harry mumbles. "I ate the other one but it left its nipples behind."

"You didn't tell me that!" gasps Louis, nearly clapping in delight. "All this time and I never knew."

"It's not a good opening line," Harry says. "Cannibalism."

"I gave you my opening line while you were having a wee," Louis points out. "I really don't think it would've changed the tone of the conversation much."

"That's true," Harry says. "I was much smoother with Aiden."

"Oh, very," Aiden confirms. "Talk of murderous sheep, that's what gets me hot."

Harry grumbles and flops over onto his belly. "I got both of you off and all you're doing is taking the piss. Unfair."

His only warning is a sympathetic noise from Louis before the other boy is clambering onto his back and settling his weight on Harry's bum. "Poor baby," he coos. "Can we make it up to you?"

Harry has to squeak a breathless laugh at that. He's mostly breathless because Louis is sort of crushing his lungs, but also at the absurdity of the offer.

"What d'you think, Aidey?" asks Louis, sort of rocking his hips against Harry. "Up for a ménage à trois?"

Aiden splutters. "Yeah, sure. Seems like a popstar thing to do, innit? Cocks everywhere."

"Isn't it just," Louis agrees. "It's the logical conclusion. Once you've had everyone in a room, have them all at once; that's what I always say."

"Is it?" Harry croaks from under him. "Sounds like it might make parties awkward."

"Just a bit, yeah." Louis shuffles backwards on Harry, so that he's now resting on his thighs. "What about you? Are you up for it?"

"I mean, I would be, I guess," Harry hedges, because he thought Louis was kidding and now it sounds like -- less. But he does like Aiden, and he does really like Louis.

"Are you being serious?" asks Aiden, which is good because Harry certainly wasn't going to be the one to say it. "You're so fucking mental I don't know when you're actually being serious and when you're going to -- draw a dick on my face and run away, or whatever."

"I can do that after, if you like," Louis offers.

"Jesus," Aiden mutters under his breath. "Do you do shit like this often?"

"I feel like that's rather more intimate than I'd like you to know," Louis says primly.

Harry laughs, helplessly, his face against the carpet where who knows what's happened, because this is part of his X Factor experience that he's never ever going to be able to tell his mum about.

"Come on, it'll be a laugh," Louis says. "I'll go first."

There's a soft sound, and then his t-shirt drops onto the carpeting beside Harry's face.

Harry can't see anything else, but there's a silence that sounds -- contemplative. Though that may be wishful thinking.

"Yeah, alright," Aiden finally says, and he still sounds a little bewildered but there's another soft sound that sounds almost identical to the first. "You're still bonkers, but alright."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Louis asks. "A few minutes of awkward nudery, and then we go find food."

Harry likes nudity. He likes food. And statistically, even if this does go wrong, there's no way all three of them will be in the same place ever again. "Okay," he says, face still smushed to the carpet.

"Yeah?" Louis sounds genuinely intrigued. "Alright then, let's get this going."

"Gonna be hard for me to contribute from here," Harry points out, shimmying his hips a bit to remind Louis of his position. He's the least nude person in the room right now, and that's not on.

"Well, that depends," Louis says. "But yeah, let's get your clothes off."

He shoves his hands under Harry's shirt and pushes it up to underneath his armpits, his fingers hot against the skin of Harry's back. He has to wriggle a little bit but after a moment Harry manages to get his arms up enough for the shirt to come the rest of the way off.

"Show Aiden your nipples," Louis demands, budging up enough that Harry can roll over.

Harry grumbles, but he obediently flips over and tips his head back to grin at Aiden. "Ta-da! There's not a billion. Just four."

“Like a cow." Aiden sounds impressed.

Well, that's not sexy. Harry sulks a bit. "They don't -- they're just nipples, they don't produce milk or anything."

"That's good." Louis shuffles down further on Harry's thighs and starts undoing his trousers.

"Is it? Good, yeah," Harry replies, distracted by Louis' actions. He's still very tan. That's not changed since the morning.

He wants to touch him, but he doesn't want Aiden to feel like -- whatever.

He also sort of wants to not be on the floor, but Louis is the ringmaster of this whole thing, so Harry supposes if Louis wants them to be on the floor, they'll be on the floor.

Aiden is still standing by the bed, shirtless but hands in his pockets, staring down at Harry and Louis. He seems older than eighteen, even though he must be if he's sharing Louis' room.

"Come here," Louis says, and Harry's confused as to how he can get any closer than he already is before Louis hops up onto his feet and pulls Harry with him.

Harry grunts a little as he's hauled upright, and then Louis' propelling them both into Aiden, each with an arm around his waist.

"There we go, much better," Louis says pleasantly, and he leans up to kiss Aiden's cheek with a loud smacking noise. "I have amazing ideas."

"Yes, awkward nudity is a great idea," Aiden agrees. "I feel like we're in a weird jeans advert."

"Well then take your jeans off," replies Louis, like that should be obvious. His own are slouching down his hips so much they're hardly on at all, and he shakes them off with an impatient wiggle of his hips.

Harry and Aiden exchange a look, shrug, and Harry strips out of his own trousers, leaving them on the floor, too, but kicking them away from his feet. The way Louis keeps dragging him around, someone might break their head if he stays tangled.

Not that he minds Louis dragging him around. It's sort of nice, actually. It's easier when he doesn't have to make decisions.

He wouldn't really know what to decide about a threesome, anyway. It's an extra set of -- well, it's an extra everything, isn't it? But mostly it seems like extra legs, from where he's standing right now.

Louis sizes up Aiden and then nods like he's decided something. "Get on the bed," he suggests, only it sounds a bit more like a command. "I want to try something."

Aiden shrugs, a little indulgent smile on his mouth, and drops backward onto the bed with a bounce. "Have at."

Louis drops down to his knees with the sort of ease Harry wishes he could, because it looks really effortless and cool. He feels a bit ridiculous being the only one standing, so kneels down next to Louis, and helps him take off Aiden's trousers. 

For his part, Aiden looks like he's not actually sure this is happening. Harry knows the feeling.

Once his jeans are off, Louis flings them over his shoulder and pats Aiden's knee. "Excellent. There's legs under there."

"Yeah, I've got legs," Aiden confirms with a little laugh that Harry finds spectacularly endearing. "Two of them, even."

"Alright, so Harry's ruled out pee and you've made amputee stunts impossible," Louis says. "This threesome will be boring. Three three dicks."

"I don't know if it's possible to have a boring threesome," says Harry doubtfully. "I mean, it's a threesome. Right there you've amped up all the excitement levels."

Louis hums through his nose. Two of his fingers are walking up Aiden's thigh, and Harry can see Aiden's muscles jumping a bit. "S'pose that's a fair point, young Harold."

"My name isn't Harold."

"I don't much care, if I'm honest?"

"Reasonable," remarks Harry. Really, it's not the most important thing to be mentioning right now. Louis' fingers are tucking themselves up the leg of Aiden's pants, and his other hand pats Harry's thigh.

Aiden jerks a little and giggles, high-pitched and silly. "Sorry. Ticklish just there."

"Really?" Louis just looks calculating. Harry makes a note to never let Louis know of any of his weak spots, because Louis just shifts his hand a little bit and does whatever he did again.

Aiden yelps and jerks again, his hips pushing up twice into Louis' hand.

"Excellent." Louis slips his hand out and yanks Aiden's pants down to his ankles. He looks just as good as he did yesterday, and Harry takes a moment to admire.

He hadn't actually seen much of Aiden yesterday, at least out of his clothes. He only has a normal amount of nipples, and he has a line of dark hair beneath his navel that Harry doesn't really, yet. He more has wisps.

He figures if he gets that by the time he's Aiden's age, he'll be alright. He _hopes_ he looks this good when he's Aiden's age, but probably the effects of eating mostly Mars Bars will make themselves known.

Maybe Aiden has his reasons behind eating everything in mad little rolls, but. Probably not.

"D'you want to help me?" Louis asks Harry, his hand already wrapping around Aiden, who twitches like an electric shock's gone through him. "I think he should experience the majesty of your mouth."

Harry blushes almost purple, but that's probably silly considering. Well. Aiden's naked except for his socks and Harry _is_ kneeling at his feet.

It seems like the most reasonable thing to do, under the circumstances. "Yeah," he murmurs, licking his lips. He leans over and kisses the head of Aiden's cock, keeping his lips there for a moment and then parting them to start sucking.

Aiden makes another sort of strangled sound and Louis snorts. "Should see your face."

Harry can feel a building giggle but forces it back. It's just that this is so _ridiculous_ , and not at all what he was expecting when he'd arrived yesterday. Not bad, just... He still can't really believe it's happening.

Louis’ fingers slide into Harry's hair and gently fluff his curls.

It's a nice sort of encouragement, and Harry lets his mouth slide down more, his eyes lifting to look at Aiden and gauge his response.

"Oh, jesus christ," Aiden mutters, covering his eyes. "This is the maddest thing I've done in my life."

"It's just a blowjob, man," Louis says. "It's alright."

Harry tries to make an agreeable noise, but it's hard with a dick in his mouth. Aiden seems appreciative, though, a sharp moan resonating from him.

Louis' fingers are soft as they stroke over the back of Harry's neck. "Want some help there?"

It's hardly like Harry's going to say _no_ , even if he does all of a sudden feel a bit more like he's in a weird low-budget porn than he did.

He slurps off and looks askance at Louis. "What do I, erm -- oh, alright, I'll just follow you then."

"You just stay right there," assures Louis, leaning in to first kiss Harry's cheek and then kiss the now wet tip of Aiden's dick. "You get that half and I'll take this half and we can meet in the middle."

Harry nods, then glances up at Aiden, whose face is pink and mouth is hanging a bit open, lower lip shiny.

"Enjoying yourself?" Harry asks courteously.

Aiden nods, somewhat dumbly, and his eyelashes flutter as he blinks slowly.

He's still just so _pretty_ , and Harry wants to make him feel good. Louis is kissing along the shaft of Aiden's cock so Harry joins him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Aiden's slightly sticky skin and tracing little circles with his tongue.

" _God_." Aiden covers his eyes with his hand. "This is mad, this is mad, this is mad."

Harry's brow furrows. It's not _that_ mad.

Louis voices what Harry's thinking: "Well, it's happening anyway, so get over it and be astounded by our oral skills." He sounds a bit grumpy. "I am feeling underappreciated."

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Aiden mutters, and his over hand comes down to card through first Louis' fringe, holding it back from his face, then Harry's.

"Much better." Louis gives him a pleased grin before returning to his task. Harry never stopped, but he doubles his efforts, his lips sometimes catching against Louis' around Aiden.

He likes, that, actually -- it's the most _different_ thing about this, because otherwise it's just giving head -- so he tries to match Louis' pace, sliding their mouths together around Aiden.

At one point Louis abandons Aiden's cock entirely to slip his tongue into Harry's mouth, kissing him thoroughly and then returning to Aiden. Harry's lips are starting to get sore but he doesn't want to stop, not at all.

Aiden's stopped covering his eyes, instead keeping one hand tucked around Harry's jaw to press his thumb against the hollow of Harry's cheek and the other hand holding Louis' hair back from his face for a better view.

Harry's having fun opening his jaw a bit wider to feel the way Aiden's thumb moves with it, and he tucks the head of Aiden's cock into his cheek once so that Aiden can feel it, sucking happily at him. Really, it's fun when you've got someone doing it with you. There's not nearly so much pressure.

Sometimes Louis' head disappears down beneath Harry's, licking at the join of Aiden's thighs and other things that make Aiden yelp and clench and jump, and Louis laughs -- maybe it's just fun doing this with _him_.

Aiden seems to be having a pretty good time as well, his breathing uneven and his hair a mess. His eyes are bright, and Harry tongues at one of the veins mapping his cock just to watch Aiden's eyes clench shut and his breath catch.

His hand tightens in warning. "Close -- I -- "

"Mm, good," murmurs Louis. He nuzzles Harry's cheek. "D'you want it?"

Harry nods, because yeah, actually, he really does, and he knows Louis doesn't really like it, if only because he's a spitter.

"Go for it," Louis whispers, smudging a kiss to Harry's jawline and then dipping his head back down to Aiden.

Harry takes a deep breath and then sucks Aiden's cock down deep, not into his throat because apparently he actually _can_ sing and needs to be able to tomorrow, but good enough, solid.

Aiden's mouth opens but no sound actually comes out, and his thighs tense before he spills hot and thick down Harry's throat.

Louis kisses Harry's cheek, all along the cheekbone. "Well done, mate."

Harry swallows before he replies, his voice a little lower than it usually is. "Thanks. Same to you."

Louis' hand curves around the back of Harry's head and he brings him in for a kiss.

His tongue licks at Harry's like he's trying to taste Aiden in his mouth, pressing in close and keeping his hand at the base of Harry's neck, playing with the curls there.

When he pulls back, he nuzzles at Harry's nose with his own, and it's -- it seems very affectionate for the middle of a threesome with virtual strangers. "D'you want to go next, Hazz?"

"Er -- like -- that?" Harry asks, a bit alarmed. He doesn't usually plan out what he's going to do when while he's having sex. Now he feels a bit put on the spot.

"Whatever you want," Louis offers, looking up at Aiden for backup. Aiden looks dazed, but nods, gulping air.

Well, that's -- there's a whole host of things Harry _wants_ , and all of a sudden he can't think of any of them. This is probably the only time he's ever going to be in this situation and he can't -- fucking -- _think_.

Louis laughs again, quiet and fond, and keeps playing with Harry's hair. "You look like a deer in headlights. You want us to suck you? Bit shy, just a handy? Maybe you want some fingers?"  
Harry automatically wrinkles his nose. "Not that one, no, that's awful," he replies. He's had someone -- put their fingers up in him once, and it was awkward and painful and he'll be perfectly pleased never doing it again.

Louis' jaw drops. "Are you serious? You poor deprived lad."

"I am not; it's terrible," Harry insists. "I prefer sexual acts that don't hurt like hell, thanks."

"Well, then it wasn't done right," Louis pronounces.

That's entirely possible, Harry thinks. It's not like he's been having sex with, like, people who know what they're doing. It's hard to find attractive, single lotharios who like guys and want to have sex with him. "Maybe," he allows, frowning. "It seems like it should hurt, though."

Louis shakes his head. "Only enough that it's worth it." He pauses. "You want me to show you?"

Harry keeps frowning, confused. "Show me?" he repeats. "You mean like... How do you mean?"

"Could do it to me first, or like -- I could do you," Louis says. He blinks. "I mean, not _do_ you, probably."

Probably not, yeah," Harry agrees. He's not entirely opposed to the idea, just... Just probably not. "I mean, if you don't... Have a problem with it, I could do it to you, I guess, if you tell me how to not make it awful." Harry recognizes that he's babbling and stops, swallowing.

"I'd probably make it awful."

"I wouldn't," Aiden offers, his voice cracking a little. "I mean, I can -- yeah, I... do. Louis, if you want."

Louis grins, looking very much like he does want. "Great, yeah. It's brilliant, promise," he swears to Harry. "Just have to do it right."

feels stupidly young, all of a sudden, and nods at his lap.

Fingers tilt his chin up and Louis kisses him firmly. "I'll rock your world," he murmurs, smiling with lowered eyes. "Promise."

Harry snorts. "Alright. Well, I'll just sit here by myself while Aiden puts his fingers in your bum, then, and we'll see."

"Oh no no no, pretty boy," says Louis, kissing Harry again before he crawls up onto the bed. "You're not getting away with being lazy. You get the lips, Aiden gets the hips. I've declared it, now make it so."

Harry laughs. "But I can't watch if I'm kissing you."

"Of course you can. You're very talented." Louis snaps his fingers and points to the pillow next to him. It's all very demanding.

Harry sighs and clambers up onto the bed. His knees and thighs, at least, are very grateful, even if his bum is quite dubious about this entire prospect.

"Good lad," says Louis, drawing Harry in for another kiss. "Do we need my lube or have you got some? I don't feel like getting up again," he says to Aiden, smiling hopefully.

"Erm, I guess I can find mine," Aiden says. "Probably in my bag, hang on."

"Don't be away too long or I'll pine." Louis settles himself into the bed. He looks quite relaxed with the whole situation. Harry wishes he could be the same.

Louis pats the mattress beside himself. "Cuddle up, Harry Styles, sixteen, from Holmes Chapel."

"I'm never getting away from that, am I?" Harry asks wryly, but he does cuddle up, because it sounds like a good idea and he's not touching nearly enough of Louis.

Louis wraps his arm around Harry's shoulders. "Nope."

"S'pose I can deal with that," Harry allows. He leans up because he's got a lovely view of Louis' neck right now and it looks like it'd be fun to lick.

He does, and Louis groans beautifully, and it feels, for a second, like Harry's found the key to the universe.

Harry remains there when Aiden returns, triumphantly clutching a tube of lubricant. "I don't know why I hid it in my socks; it's not like my mum's here," Aiden says, rolling his eyes and dropping back down to the bed.

"That'd be unfortunate," Harry agrees, raising his head, because it seems like something Louis would say, were he disposed to speaking at the moment.

"Indeed it would." Aiden gives him a crinkly-eyed grin, and Harry's just, he's happy to be here, and he's happy Aiden's happy, and everything's so fantastic.

Aiden knee-walks up the mattress behind Harry and bends down to kiss the back of Harry's shoulder. He's soft, but brushes up against Harry's flank and it makes Harry jump all the same.

He tilts his head back. He hasn't actually kissed Aiden's mouth yet during all of this and it doesn't feel right under his skin, so he searches out his mouth with his own.

"Hello," Aiden murmurs softly, pressing his mouth against Harry's lips. "Doing alright?"

"Yeah," sighs Harry, closing his eyes and tilting into the kiss a little more. He still feels -- vulnerable, perhaps, and young, but he thinks it'd be a bit weird if he didn't.

Aiden seems to be able to tell, given how he kisses Harry; it's good, but it's gentle, at least gentler than Harry expected it to be after giving him a tag-team blowie.

Louis makes a bit of a disgruntled noise and latches onto Harry's neck for a quick nibble, just jarring enough for Harry to break away with a startled squeak.

"Aiden, you have hips; I get Harry's lips."

"Right, right, forgot. They're good lips," Aiden defends, stealing one more kiss before he returns to his position hovering around Louis' thighs. "You've got an amazing bum, though, so it's not really a sacrifice."

Louis preens a bit. "I do, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have, and you don't wear trousers that properly show it off." Aiden grabs a handful of Louis' arse and squeezes. "And I know that because I can only tell it's so good when you haven't got clothes on."

"Maybe I should be naked more," Louis ponders, and spreads his feet apart on the bed so Aiden can fit between.

"I think you should," mumbles Harry, kissing Louis' jaw. "Just never wear clothes. I'd definitely approve of that. And so would Louis Walsh."

"Eww." Louis and Aiden both groan.

Harry muffles his laughter into Louis' shoulder. "Sorry," he says, giving Louis' stomach an apologetic rub.

"You're not yet forgiven," Louis sniffs. "Have to make it up to me."

"I can do that," Harry replies, perhaps a bit more eagerly than is necessary.

Louis ruffles his fingers through Harry's hair. "Glad to hear you're up for the challenge."

"Whatever you want," mumbles Harry, biting Louis' shoulder lightly. "Well, mostly," he amends. He's not peeing on anyone or getting peed on or doing anything -- weird.

They're already doing something he thinks is sort of weird. Two slightly weird things, concurrently, even.

Aiden is relaxed and spreading Louis' thighs, probably to get a better angle for what he's about to do. Harry can't help being a little anxious about it -- no matter what Louis says, there's no way it can't hurt, is there?

Louis seems completely unworried, though, and Harry wonders -- well, wonders if they did this the other night, before Harry'd met either of them.

"There we are, love," mutters Aiden, and his fingers are shiny with slick now as he lowers one between Louis' legs. Harry can't see properly from here but he thinks he can tell when Louis is breached because he tenses up a little and sighs.

Harry's hand tightens on Louis' side.

Louis looks over at Harry, and his pupils are blown wide. "You're like properly nervous, aren't you?"

"I don't want you to get hurt," Harry says softly, embarrassed. Obviously Louis wouldn't be doing this if he wasn't comfortable with it.

Louis' muscles feel tight under Harry's hand, like he's tensed them, but Louis just rubs Harry's arm and smiles. "I promise, I'm not. It's really good, or will be in a minute."

"I'm going slow," Aiden gently cuts in. "Promise, I've done this quite a few times, I know how."

Harry nods, and he feels like the two floors between the 'sixteen-year-olds' group and the 'eighteen-year-olds' group is -- bigger than two floors. But it's not like he's done nothing. He's done a tag-team blowie, for fuck's sake.  
That's more than -- he's pretty sure nobody back home's done that. He steels himself and nods, returning his mouth to the patch of skin between Louis' neck and shoulder. It's very soft and he likes kissing it.

Louis hums, low in his throat, and he shifts, knees widening as Aiden leans down, the hand not -- doing things -- bracing against the mattress, holding himself up at an angle so he can watch Louis' face intently.

Harry can't tell how many fingers Aiden's got in now, if he's even got more than the one. The guy who'd done him had started with two and Harry had, well, he wasn't very into it.

Louis seems into it: a pretty pink flush is creeping over his neck and down over his clavicles and chest, into the faint patch of soft hair that Harry reaches over to pet lightly.

"I get lips," Louis murmurs, one hand flapping out to pat Harry's leg. "Gimme your lips, please."

Harry smiles, nods a little, tucks up higher on the bed so he can reach Louis' mouth.

He can tell Louis is a little distracted, but he can't blame him. He keeps shifting his hips and pressing against Aiden's hand, and the way he's kissing Harry is slow and a little bit messy.

Louis' far hand sweeps across his body and grasps Harry's hand heavily, dragging it down to wrap over Louis' cock. "Just -- yeah, help with -- yeah, there."

Harry can do that. "Will this make it up to you?" he asks in a low mumble, keeping his lips pressed to Louis' ear.

"Hmmm?" Louis sounds beyond distraction. "What? Oh -- yeah, just... wrap your thumb there..."

Harry _mmm_ s and adjusts his grip, twisting his wrist and pressing his thumb where Louis wants him.

" _Yes_ ," Louis hisses. He noses at the undercurve of Harry's jaw. "Keep goin' but -- look at -- Aiden."

It's easy enough to lift his head to watch what Aiden's doing, how his arm is flexing and his wrist is moving. It's obvious that whatever he's doing, Louis loves it.

Seems like Aiden shouldn't be getting anything out of it, in Harry's opinion, but Aiden sort of seems into it, too, staring down at Louis and his hand with dark, hooded eyes. He smudges a kiss to the inside of Louis' knee.

Louis laughs like he can't help it, but not in a -- well, not in a laughing way, more of a moany sighing thing than anything else.

"He wasn't lying," he tells Harry, shifting again to rock down against Aiden's palm. "He _is_ good."

"Told you." Aiden's gone a bit breathless as well, sounds like, and he keeps wetting his lips, glancing down where his fingers must be disappearing into Louis.

He blinks, slow again, everything slow with Aiden. "You want another?"

"Please," Louis says gratefully, shifting his legs a bit wider. "Yeah, yeah, give me another one."

Aiden nods, teeth scrape the side of Louis' knee, Harry's throat feels dry as he watches Louis tense again and buck a little, fucking down onto whatever Aiden is giving him.

"Yeah, that's good," he grunts, and leans his head back to kiss Harry's shoulder. "I like that."

Harry sort of wants to move around, look over Aiden's shoulder, see what's happening. He's also kind of getting achingly hard, because Louis is _really_ fit and Aiden is fit, too, and watching them together is really -- yeah, it's good.

Louis' hips jerk as Harry watches, and he kind of whines, and it's really _hot_ , and Harry wants to, well, he wants to know what's good enough that it makes Louis sound like that.

He rubs his cock up against the side of Louis' hip because it's what he can reach.

Louis rumbles a little laugh in response, the arm he still has around Harry tightening in a squeeze. "Enjoying yourself?" he asks, but it trails off into a moan.

Harry nods, biting his lip and feeling just slightly shy. He rubs against Louis again, but he isn't sure he's actually _supposed_ to.

"That's good," Louis murmurs, his hand on Harry's lower back and urging him to do it again. "That's really good."

Harry grumbles a little, sighing, and ruts against Louis in earnest, the hand he has wrapped around Louis' cock going just a little slack.

"I want another one," Louis demands, wriggling his hips. His back arches off the bed a little. "Want you to fuck me with them."

"You sure?" Aiden asks. Harry can see the muscles in his arm now, a soft shining sheen of sweat over all of their skin.

"Yeah, m'ready for it. Please?" adds Louis, now grinding down onto Aiden's fingers.

Aiden nods, gulping a little air, loud in the quiet room.

As Harry looks on, Aiden seems to adjust his angle a little more and then the flexing of his arm is more pronounced, and Harry can hear the quiet sounds of his fingers inside of Louis.

" _Oh_ ," Harry whispers, because -- because yeah, Aiden is like, and Louis is, and -- Harry feels stupid for not realizing it before but it's basically like the same as fingering a girl, isn't it, the principal behind it. It's the same sort of wetly wanting sound that he's always loved.

And he likes fingering girls, and they always seem to like being fingered, so, so that's rather simple now. As long as you're doing it right, it'll probably feel good.

Louis is moaning softly, stuttering on every exhale, and his hips are rocking in earnest now, helping Aiden get in deeper and hit the right places, the right angles.

It looks... Harry really wants to do it, now. If it's anything as good as Louis is making it look and sound, Harry wants that.

And besides, it won't be like the last time. Louis and Aiden both clearly know what they're doing. Harry's been watching them both do stuff to guys for the last two days.

Watching them like this, all sweat and moaning and skin, he feels extraordinarily grateful to have been a guy both of them have done stuff to.

Harry keeps rutting at Louis' hip, not enough that he might make himself come, because he really wants them to do that, but enough that he doesn't go absolutely bonkers-mad with waiting for them to touch him.

"Yeah," Louis finally sighs, with a hitch in his voice that Harry recognizes. "Yeah, just about, almost there, Aidey."

"Can I help?" Harry asks breathlessly. "With like -- anything?"

"Couldn't give me a cheeky hand, could you, love?" Louis bobs his head toward where Harry's hand isn't really doing anything other than letting Louis fuck up into it.

"Oh!" Harry tightens his grip again and Louis groans appreciatively, heavily petting Harry's curls. "Sorry about that."

"Fuck, fuck," curses Louis, flipping his fringe back out of his eyes. "Not, not a problem, babe, just -- there, yeah," he groans, his muscles going a bit slack as he comes, over Harry's hand and his own stomach.

Harry bites his lip as his own cock spits out a bubble of precome in sympathy. He hopes it does actually hurt a little if Louis fingers him, because otherwise he's just going to embarrass himself entirely, probably.

" _Fuck_ ," repeats Louis in this gloriously ragged voice, breathing heavily with his eyes closed. "Yeah, you're really good at that."

Aiden grins, looking a little shellshocked himself. "Thanks very much." He winks, then looks to Harry. "What d'you say, Harry?"

"Uhhn," is all Harry can think of, which really isn't any sort of response at all.

Louis laughs, flopping his head back against the pillows. "Is that a 'yes, please, you were both totally right and I was wrong'?"

Harry breathes a few times and tries to answer again, but he only gets as far as, "Hnnn," before realizing that he's still a bit overwhelmed.

He just nods, instead, and lies down on his back, spreading out his arms and legs a bit in invitation. They're brilliant lads, obviously. They'll get the hint.

"Oh, you just want us to have at it, then?" Louis grins at him, tweaking a nipple. "Fine with me. Switch?" he asks Aiden.

"I'm not usually," Aiden replies cheekily. "But I guess it's only fair."

Louis snickers, actually _snickers_ and fumbles down the bed, still a bit wobbly from his orgasm. He kisses Aiden and then flops himself down between Harry's legs.

He kisses the inside of Harry's thigh, right along the ticklish, most sensitive, pale stripe of not-quite-muscle.

Harry makes a noise that reminds him a little of a bird, a sharp trill of laughter. "Don't -- don't," he says automatically. "Ticklish."

Louis just grins evilly and kisses again, of course, an inch higher along Harry's thigh on his way to Harry's cock.

He's not ashamed that he makes a whining sound. Louis is _mean_ , and it's totally understandable to whine when someone's mean.

It makes Harry's legs splay open further, though, so there seems to be a method to Louis' evil madness.

He continues nuzzling up Harry's thigh, and then instead of continuing to his cock, switches thighs and starts kissing down that one. It's terrible unfair.

Harry's toes flex and point and his heel bangs on the bed once, against his better intentions, but it does seem to serve his purpose.

Louis reaches back behind him and holds up the discarded tube, squeezing some out onto his fingers. "You're sure about this, yeah?" he asks Harry. 

"Yeah," replies Harry with a small smile. He's still nervous, a little, but Louis obviously enjoyed it being done to him, and -- and he's got Aiden, kissing his shoulder; he can focus on that if he needs to.

Louis pauses before slicking up his fingers. Instead he leans down over Harry, caging him in with his arms, and kisses him, deep and wet and slow. "Cool."

It's a good enough kiss that Harry's relaxing without thinking about it, one hand cupping Louis' cheek to keep him close when he would've pulled away.

Louis smiles a little. "D'you want Aiden to kiss you or anything, or would you rather be able to see me?"

"Both." Harry tips his head up to kiss Aiden's jaw, and his neck, whatever he can reach. "I like kissing."

Louis chuckles. "Alright. Aidey, make your head transparent."

"I'll get right on that," says Aiden, his voice dry. Really, Harry doesn't think Aiden's been appreciated enough during this threesome. He manages to crane his neck enough to kiss the corner of Aiden's mouth.

"Hi," he says cheerfully. "Fancy seeing you here."

"Fancy that," Aiden agrees, kissing Harry back, his fingers soft on the side of Harry's throat.

Harry wraps his hand around Aiden's wrist, just to feel it there, because even though his eyes are closed he can tell Louis is squeezing lube onto his fingers.

He's still, he's nervous. It's only natural to be, even with what he just watched, even though he's almost positive Louis' going to be really careful.

"You ready?" Louis asks, and Harry turns his head away from Aiden's mouth so he can nod. His cheeks feel hot, and Aiden's lips graze over one of them lightly.

The first touch is surprisingly cold, and Harry jumps before laughing. Even his laugh sounds nervous, higher than it usually is and sharp.

Louis smiles, though, and Aiden's nose nudges Harry's cheek, and they both say, "Relax, Harry."

"I'm relaxed." Harry takes another breath, making an effort to untense. "Very relaxed."

Louis grins encouragingly. "Good."

His next touch, Harry's expecting, so he remains still as Louis rubs with one slick fingertip. He's going very slow, exceedingly slow, but Harry doesn't mind. He'd rather that than the alternative.

Because honestly, it feels weird. It's not like Harry isn't still into this, because he is, his dick is hard as anything and Louis is ridiculously sexy and watching Aiden do this _to_ Louis was sexy and Aiden's fit and his hand is rubbing down Harry's belly teasingly close to his cock but -- it feels _weird_.

Louis' fingertip pushes inside, and there's a bit of a stretch, but it doesn't hurt. _Yet_ , Harry can't stop himself from thinking. He inhales lightly when Louis doesn't stop, rocking his finger forward and back in a slow, gentle rhythm.

"Alright?"

Harry nods, but he knows his fingers are probably crushing Aiden's wrist a bit. There's a tattoo behind Aiden's ear, he notices now, and busies himself with nosing at it.

It's a good distraction. Aiden has stubble that Harry can nuzzle against while he presses his lips against his ear and the softer skin just below it.

It makes sense he'd liked Cap Guy, then. Stubble.

Harry's distracted enough that he doesn't realize Louis has his entire finger inside Harry until, well, it's there, and Louis moves it a little bit.

Harry yelps a little, just in surprise.

It's enough that Louis stops moving and looks up at him. "You're okay," he says, his free hand stroking Harry's hip. "Did I hurt you?"

Harry shakes his head. "Thanks."

"Good." Louis moves his finger again, out and then in, twisting it slowly.

A gasp punches out of Harry.

Louis doesn't ask if he's alright this time -- maybe he can see it on Harry's face, but he just repeats his motion, a little faster. It still feels weird but there's something else, underneath, something that makes Harry curious to know how this would feel with more fingers, or a dick.

He shifts his hips experimentally, just enough to get his legs a little wider, more comfortable for Louis' wrist so he can move more quickly.

Oh, there's more, like a tingle, when Louis adjusts his angle and teases just lightly with a second finger. It doesn't feel like he's going to add it yet, which is good, but it's another sensation to add to the growing list of them that Harry's feeling.

Aiden's palm rolls gently over the head of Harry's dick, and Harry whimpers.

"Yeah, keep doing that, that's stellar," he hears Louis say to Aiden, and his second fingertip just slips past the ring of muscle.

Harry squeaks a little at that, reaching out to grab Louis' elbow, because it doesn't hurt but he's not -- he doesn't want more than this, he doesn't think, this is more than enough for today.

Louis frowns curiously, but he does stop. "No?" he asks, giving Harry's fingers a little kiss.

"S'okay," Harry assures him. "Not more, though? If that's alright?"

"Oh, alright," Louis agrees, his second fingertip tucking back with his other fingers. The first one curls inside of Harry and that's a whole new feeling, one that makes his toes tingle.

It must show on his face, because Louis winks and does it again, biting his lip.

Harry releases a low moan, shifting his hips toward the feeling. Louis' fingers aren't terribly long, but he likes that, because they fit just perfectly.

Aiden's palm is soft as it circles over the head of Harry's dick again, collecting a smear of precome.

That's good, he likes that. He already knows Aiden's well good at handjobs and this is no different, with his soft, big hands on Harry.

He doesn't know whether to push up into Aiden's hand or down against Louis' finger and it's a pretty good dilemma, if he's honest, so he just does both, rocking into both of them with his own hands spread flat on the mattress, digging into sheets.

He acknowledges in his head that this is loads better than the other time he got fingered, and he's not sure if most of it isn't because there's two other people in the bed with him. That's got to be a good amount of why it's so much better, with one hand on his cock to help ease the way.

Louis' kissing the insides of Harry's thighs again, lower and lower, and Aiden's hand is working in firm, smooth tugs, and it's basically all the best thing that's ever happened to Harry, besides maybe finding out that he was getting through to the second day of bootcamp. And that was just a few hours ago, so today is the best day ever.

He feels hot all over and so, so _good_ that he can't help reaching down to touch Louis' face, fingers brushing through his fringe and petting down the side of his cheek to push against his lips.

Louis kisses Harry's fingertips, sucking one into his mouth just slightly to lick the tip, suggestive and dark-eyed.

It makes Harry think of what Louis' mouth had felt like when it was on his cock, and that's enough to make him shudder, hips jerking up against Aiden's hand.

"That's it," Aiden encourages him. He leans down to lick at one of Harry's (normal) nipples, and that's the end of it all.

Harry groans, and Louis' finger slides deep, curling inside him and it's all of the good things all at once, so Harry just, he just lets go, his head falling back as he comes.

Aiden is not great, apparently, at this bit, because there's even come on Harry's neck when really, it should mostly be in Aiden's hand, he thinks. But Louis just leans down and licks it away, and maybe that's better.

"C'mere," Aiden mutters, and then he's kissing Louis with Harry's taste in his mouth and, Harry decides, _definitely_ better.

So Harry lies, boneless, on the bed, watching them snog above his head. There's a crick in the back of his thigh like he strained it while coming and he feels completely filthy, encrusted in sex muck, and he'll have to wash his hair again, he thinks, but this is it. This is _it_ , he's going to be a popstar, or at least have fucked one, and he thinks -- well, he hopes -- maybe he'll keep in touch with at least one of the two of them. Probably whichever one doesn't become a real popstar.

Either of them could do it. Louis has charisma and presence and he's tan with a good smile and nice eyes, and Aiden's got a _voice_ and he's endearing with his cardigans and so fit and Harry thinks one of them's bound to become _something_.

Louis pulls back from Aiden and winks down at Harry. "Better than an autograph. Thanks for that."

Harry bats at him lightly and grins. He doesn't know if he can quite -- words -- yet, but he can give Louis a bit of a foot-cuddle up the back of his thigh with his toes.

Louis laughs at that, and his eyes crinkle up at the corners. Harry likes that, he thinks; the crinkly eyes.

He wants a kiss, and beckons Louis forward until he can get one, sighing happily into Louis' mouth.

Aiden is warm and a little sweaty when he settles down along Harry's side, stretched out longer than they are, toes at the very edge of the bed.

"That was good," Harry says, finally regaining his ability to speak. "That was, yeah, that was really good. Thank you." He turns to kiss Aiden as well.

"You don't have to say thanks." Aiden laughs. "But you're welcome, I guess. Oddly formal."

"I was raised to be polite." Harry smiles and bites Aiden's jaw. Not hard, just because it's there.

"Then kindly shush." Louis covers Harry's lips with two fingers. "Some of us are tired, yeah?"

Harry bites Louis' fingers, too, but dutifully falls silent and snuggles down more between them. He hooks his leg over Louis' and flings an arm over Aiden to make sure nobody goes anywhere.

The next morning, Harry wakes before the rest of them, sits up, and gives his bum a little wriggle just to see if it's got sore overnight. It hasn't, which is good.

His thigh's a little sore from when he pulled that muscle, but he thinks that's an alright way to injure yourself. Not that he can tell anyone about it, but it was fun getting there.

He's still smushed between Louis and Aiden, so he isn't actually sure how to get out of bed.

That, in itself, seems a good enough reason to stay here. The naked, fit men on either side of him have nothing to do with that decision, obviously. Just collateral fringe benefits.

He tucks himself back down and noses at Louis' shoulder, because it's there and tan and all vaguely muscular. It feels nice against his face, basically, and Harry is tired and that's his excuse.

Louis mumbles a grumbly little morning sound and pats Harry's side lazily, his eyes never opening.

"Morning," Harry says in reply, his voice croaky and low like it always is when he's just woken up. "You're very tan."

"Cheers," Louis mumbles. "S'ernawonk."

"Right," agrees Harry, like he's got any idea what Louis just said.

"Zigible." Louis pats Harry, satisfied, and rolls over a little to push his face into the pillows away from the stream of dusty sunlight pouring in over London's rooftops through their window.

"Yeah." Harry gives Louis' back a fond kiss and then squirms over to use Aiden as a pillow.

If Louis is incoherent in the morning, it transpires that Aiden is immovable. He's asleep so deeply that it doesn't even seem as though he's breathing, and Harry has to lift Aiden's arm to put it around himself and cuddle back down again. Aiden doesn't even flinch, not a flutter.

It's really like Harry's cuddling himself with someone else's body, which isn't nearly as satisfying. Aiden's still comfortable, at least, so he tries to catch some more sleep.

It doesn't happen, though, because he's at _X Factor bootcamp_ and he's in London and he knows he isn't allowed to leave the hotel, but he still wants to see everything. Eventually, he moves Aiden's arm again and stands up on the mattress, goose-stepping over Aiden's comatose form so he can jump off the edge of the bed and pad over to the window.

It's beautiful out, with the sunbeams scattered all over rooftops and the sides of buildings; the people below are small enough that Harry feels immense, but not so small that they lose detail. This is the sort of thing people probably write songs about, he thinks, and he wishes with a pang all of a sudden that he could write about it himself.

He's still standing naked in the window when an arm comes around him a while later, enough that he's already watched two traffic jams stick and disperse below them.

He leans back without a thought, keeping his eyes on the city moving below. "I want to stay here," he says softly. "I don't want to go home, ever."

"Well." It's Louis. "Lucky you're a born popstar then, isn't it?" He sighs. "And it's lucky I like Doncaster. Might try out for footie or summat. Do my ninetieth year of college."

"You won't, you know." Harry smiles to himself, and moves a hand down to play with Louis' fingers. "I'd bet money if I had any. You're going to be amazing."

Louis shakes his head. "I'm good enough for school plays. Maybe I'll go for drama school instead of uni, but. I'm just enjoying being here while I am."

"You are good, though, or you wouldn't've got through yesterday," says Harry firmly. "Now don't argue with me or I'll, I'll, well, I'll do something," he concludes. He's really not all that good at threats.

Louis snorts. "Won't dedicate any songs to me on your first album?"

"I will dedicate one to you and it'll be called 'That One Boy What Got Mad Famous' with your name in parentheses after." Harry nods. "There you go."

"That's the worst song title I've ever heard," Louis snorts. He pinches the loose skin on Harry's side and Harry yelps.

"I'll get rich off your fame." Harry leans back to give Louis' throat a nuzzle. "And it'll serve you right for not believing me."

Louis shakes his head and pinches Harry's side-fat again. "Idiot. Come on, let's shower and find some brekkie before... whatever it is we're doing today."

"Oh, right, there's more." Harry sighs. He'd forgotten that they actually have to jump more hurdles before they can say they've done well.

Below them, car horns beep and London bustles. Outside their door, the thunderous feet of X Factor hopefuls rumble down the hall like an oncoming storm.

He showers with Louis to save time and they do end up getting clean eventually, after a few water fights that leave the bathroom (and both of them) soaked. They do a bit to mop it up but mostly they kiss and then wash.

Aiden is still a lump on the bed when Harry wanders naked out to the main room again.

"Shall we wake him?" Louis asks.

"I think we should," Harry says, and Louis pours some water down Aiden's neck.

Aiden gurgles awake, and it's good they both automatically took a step back because Aiden jerks up and takes a wild swing before he recognizes where he is.

He drops back down on the mattress and rubs his eyes. "You wankers."

"Indeed we are," agrees Louis before he returns to the bed and plops himself down on top of Aiden.

"G'off me, with your giant arse," Aiden grumbles, but wraps his arms incongruously around Louis, keeping him there.

"You love my giant arse," Louis insists. He grabs at Harry's hand and pulls him next to them in the pile of boys.

Harry stumbles over and tucks his chin onto Aiden's shoulder. "We're going to find breakfast," he informs him.

"You ought to find a toothbrush," Aiden answers.

"I like sandwiches more." Harry tucks his head up under Aiden's chin. "You should come with us to get breakfast."

"Fine," Aiden mutters. "But you have to get off me."

"I'd rather get you off," replies Louis with a put-upon sigh. "But if you insist." He shimmies himself back down Aiden's legs to right himself.

Harry follows, scrambling down from Aiden's lap and taking the pair of pants Louis' flinging at him.

Thanks," he says absently as he pulls them on. It feels a bit weird having clothes on after he's been naked so long, but he imagines he'll have to get used to it, as public nudity is still probably a crime.

Pity. It means Louis has to put on his ill-fitting trousers again, too.

It's really a shame that he doesn't wear trousers that appropriately show off his bum. It's a fantastic bum, and it's as much a crime as public nudity that Louis has to cover it up at all.

Harry puts on his pants and his trousers from yesterday, and accepts the t-shirt that Aiden offers him to borrow. Louis gives him a hoodie, too, a truly monstrous purple thing with a cowl neck ("Get it?" Louis asks, "Cowell?").

"I almost want to not wear it just because of that," says Harry, wrinkling his nose, but he's grinning and he knows they can tell he's full of shit.

Aiden jams Harry's beanie back onto his head over his damp curls. "Get out of our room, you youngin."

"I like your room better than mine. My floor's all twats." Harry frowns, and adjusts the beanie so that his hair's not flying everywhere.

"Not all of the 16s are twats," Louis says. "That blond guitar kid's funny, even if he's the loudest person alive."

"I think he hugged me yesterday. He's alright," Harry agrees. "And I guess Liam Payne's not bad, just. Odd."

"He's very serious," Aiden agrees. "The girls on your floor are chill, though. That rapping girl, Cher, we jammed yesterday with some Kanye."

"Cher's alright," replies Harry. She hadn't been one of the girls in his Xtra segment but he's seen her around and chatted to her a bit and she's really cool, in a way that sort of intimidates Harry because he's so, so not cool at all.

She has tattoos, even. That's pretty sick.

“I'm hungry, let's go," he says, bouncing on the balls of his feet and shoving his hands in the pocket of the hoodie. It's very comfortable, if still ghastly. "Think we can find the sandwich place again?"

"I have an excellent sense of direction," Louis boasts. "Especially when circling."

"We're relying on that, then, because mine's shit; I've only got one direction and that's toward the smell of sausage." Harry sighs. "It's not really useful."

Louis snorts. "You never know."

"You never do know," Aiden agrees. Harry's pretty sure he _does_ know, but that's beside the point.

They all leave the room, and if anyone finds it suspicious that there are three, including someone not from the floor, all exiting at once first thing in the morning, nobody mentions it.

Harry thinks they're probably all fucking each other as well, anyway. They're hardly going to pay attention to them.

They do, actually, find craft services fairly quickly and again take a seat near the girls who are left from the day before; Katie is gone, but Jade is still left.

He gives Jade a wave and next to him, Louis snorts. "Popular, aren't you?" he asks, giving Harry a little nudge.

Harry grins, cheeks dimpling, and shrugs a bit. "It's just the hair."

"And the face," Aiden corrects. He's picking apart his sandwich again. Harry finds it equally disgusting and charming.

After they've finished eating, they have to split up again, Harry off with the 16s and Aiden and Louis together.

It's a hard day, but they're all hard days, really. Everyone's trying to have a laugh and pretend like they're not scared shitless but they all are, Harry knows it.

They have to dance, and it's terrible, but Harry does the best that he can and he thinks, well, at least he's better than some people.

There's one boy who actually leaves the stage, and Simon has to go back and talk him into dancing. It probably makes for good television, but Harry -- can't imagine throwing away this opportunity for something so stupid like not wanting to dance.

So Harry dances. 

Like a fool.

He thinks, vaguely, that if he sees Louis and Aiden again, he'll have to show them, because he knows that Louis, at least, will like it.

He wonders how Louis dances. Like a madman, probably. Or he might be amazing; Harry doesn't really know a thing about him.

He can't imagine Aiden dancing at all. The shoegazer.

He is sweating in the massive hoodie by the time they're done, and his head feels like it's about to melt. He thinks that means he's done well. Brian did say that they shouldn't look pretty by the time they're done, and Harry feels about as far from pretty as he ever has.

Once they've all been judged, he goes out to the corridor and lies on the linoleum for a while.

It's nice and cool and he can take his beanie off and nobody steps on him, which is a good bonus.

He only sees Aiden and Louis in passing for the rest of the day, and doesn't get a chance to search them out the next morning, either, not with the pressure fully on to make it through to the judges houses.

Never would Harry have thought he'd get this far, but now he has, he wants to do his best and maybe -- maybe -- it'll be good enough.

He meets up with Louis for breakfast, and it seems like maybe he'd even been waiting for Harry -- he's at the foot of the stairs when Harry goes down in the morning, chatting casually as anything to a few other lads, but still. At the foot of the stairs, right?

Louis wishes him luck, and gives him a hug, and Harry, he wants, he wants them both to get through. He really wants them both to get through but then there's Aiden who everyone's been saying is going through and Liam Payne who's been a shoe-in from the start and Cap Guy, who's been moved to their category because of the change in the ages, and it just, it doesn't seem like it's possible at all. But Harry really hopes he and Louis both make it through.

But there's just so many Boys now, with the age change. Marlon and Cap Guy, who Harry knows full well is called Matt but sort of prefers calling him Cap Guy in his head and all the rest, and Harry's one of the youngest left. He's probably the youngest, unless someone else's birthday is February 1.

And there's only so far that his face can take him. So many people who are predominantly face have been cut already, and Harry's pretty sure he's just hanging on. He had a good vocal but he just doesn't know if it was good enough.

But he will know. In the next hour, he'll know. He's trying to be cautiously optimistic, but with Harry, he's either cautious or he's optimistic and he's never been great at being both at once.

He pulls his beanie down farther over his hears to try and shut everyone else out because he doesn't want to hear other people chattering about how they think they're through. He wants to shout at them that they don't know, and they're probably not, because nothing good ever happens.

So he stands, and he waits, and he tugs at the hem of his lucky green polo and the cardigan of Louis' -- which means it's probably Aiden's, actually -- and fixes his beanie compulsively. And he waits.

They're called, finally, the lot of them. There aren't so many of them left now, few enough that Harry has another moment of being flabbergasted that he's still _here_. They traipse onto the stage, one after another, and line up to wait for their fate.

Aiden shoulders his way over to Harry and claps him on the shoulder, hanging on just a moment for the comfort of it. "Y'alright, Harry?"

"Yeah," Harry says. "Alright as I can be. Have you seen Louis?"

Aiden shakes his head. "We got separated in the crowd, but, I mean, he's definitely onstage."

"I'd hope so, yeah. Good luck. Not that you need it," Harry tacks on.

Aiden shakes his head and just keeps rubbing Harry's shoulder. It starts to hurt, actually, so Harry leans away on the pretense of scoping down the line.

It takes him a while -- it looks like a lot more people when they're lined up like this -- but he finds him, finally, and he's got his red beanie on and he's looking straight back at Harry.

He gives him a little look, and Harry feels... content. Still nervous, still so very nervous, but less like he's going to choke on it.

Louis smiles, and his eyes crinkle up at the corners.


End file.
